


Glass doll

by wooyoungies



Series: Rainbow [2]
Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Beach Sex, Bipolar Disorder, Blowjobs, Come Eating, Drug Use, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Little bit of angst, Lots of it, Lots of kissing, M/M, Metaphors, Past Abuse, Rimming, Rough Sex, Side Jonghwa, Side Yeojoong, Side Yungi, Slice of Life, Summer, Weird comparisons to space, idk i get emo, oh and
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-05-16
Packaged: 2019-10-18 01:10:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 45,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17571467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wooyoungies/pseuds/wooyoungies
Summary: San was quiet, mindful, and a bit of a wanderer who spaced out in daydreams of anything but clear resolution. Often, Wooyoung would bring him back down to earth with his graceful smile, his tethering laugh, and his clip of balloons sigh.orSan just finished his freshman year of college and he finds a way to make the most of his summer while learning how to love himself, and maybe, just maybe, love a certain boy named Wooyoung





	1. If you could see what I see

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> San sees

There was something about the loss of hope that was quite damaging to one. 

There was definitely something about the way San felt when he realized that maybe, just maybe, he could not breathe anymore. The way his lungs flew on autopilot, splitting down the middle, creating wings. And the way weeds filled up his flimsy flyers, filled with dirt and spit, and the way he choked on it. 

He didn’t like the taste of dirt. 

The flowers were not fucking beautiful, like everyone said. 

The loss of hope wasn’t some emo shit poem, it was real and raw. 

San had seen the loss of hope in the refrigerator light of his old shitty childhood house, and the way the too dim bronze light reflected on his mom’s face as she reached for her favorite comfort: alcohol. He saw it when his mother would consume so many drugs that her eyes would get the “haze” and the moment she knew that she had fucked up. 

It was fucked up, San thought, that it is true that love is more prominent than ever when chaos is present. The final snip of the balloons that pull you from the sky to the too hard ground it slams you on. His heart would spin when he could not help but love his mother- despite all of her fuck ups, her harsh words, and her slam of pill and glass bottles that would echo through the halls. Despite all of that, he loved her. He remembered when she had bright sunny smiles, warm hugs that caused the stars to twinkle, and her gentle hand that San swore filled the sky as the great constellation that the Sioux talked about in their great stories, and how they said it combined with the star Rigel in Orion, and part of Eridanus the river. 

To love someone so much, that love was the reason you had to leave them. 

But Wooyoung, made it too fucking easy to love. 

San liked to compare Wooyoung to the civil twilight. 

It was the time when the sun was perfectly 6 degrees below the horizon, and when San felt he could fall in love with Wooyoung, 6 times over. 

Six. Six. Six. 

The civil twilight was his favorite part of the day because he would watch the sun dip gently beneath the cotton candy sky, and his fingers would dip into Wooyoung’s cotton mind. 

Fingers would slip beautifully together, Wooyoung’s eyes would twinkle with plethora's of the brightest stars and Venus. It was a bit like the thrill of your favorite concert, the build-up of slow open mouth kisses across the watery crimson flushed chests, and the slow-down of watching it slip into nautical twilight. 

In summary, San was pretty fucking smitten. 

He might as well name himself Shakespeare for the way he adores every rocket blast of Wooyoung’s existence. And, it was kinda hard to ignore his astronomical state of wonder. He was a bit of a walking poem. 

San wasn’t really sure when Wooyoung became a champagne supernova that had exactly 1.4 too much solar mass pressure on his trapped butterfly heart, but he thought he really wouldn’t mind the inward collapse. 

He would be a burning ball every day, a rip in time every day, if that is what it took. 

San was quiet, mindful, and a bit of a wanderer who spaced out in daydreams of anything but clear resolution. Often, Wooyoung would bring him back down to earth with his graceful smile, his tethering laugh, and his clip of balloons sigh. 

Maybe, San had too much to drink because he was becoming sick just thinking of all the ways Wooyoung could be compared to the concept of space. Wooyoung didn’t even know the concept of physical space because he was constantly in San’s bubble. He would always be splayed across his lap, small freckles that littered the bridge of his nose would scrunch playfully, making the path of stars rise like the waves the moon pulled to tide. 

Maybe, San also romanticized Wooyoung too much. 

He couldn’t find himself to care, though. 

“San?” 

San looked down at a very drunk Wooyoung who was too giggly for his own good. 

“Mhm?” 

“Wanna makeout?” 

For some odd reason, San could not tell you why, but Wooyoung still had the power to make him blush. He didn’t ever wanna lose him. 

It was too complicated to think about, and he didn’t even want to think about the rejection that his heart would feel if everything was for nothing. He didn’t want to categorize Wooyoung into the all-for-nothing box, because it was not like that at all, but San meant it in a sense that he didn’t think he could handle the fact that Wooyoung would ever be the problem. Not now, not ever, never in the world could Woo ever be an issue. 

San was beginning to think he was making less sense- the alcohol was way too strong. 

He was startled by a sharp poke on his cheek, and a press of a hot chest against his, and lips close to his ears, “Distracted?” 

San felt his breath become shaky, “Well- I am now.” 

Lips met his, soft and sweet, but he knew that wouldn’t last very long. Wooyoung and he would always start out gentle, smooth, all fuzzy; he felt his body leaving the earth’s floor. His gravity was now defying and maybe this was the cure to all of his problems. San knew that making out with Wooyoung was something he for sure loved, that didn’t feel like it hurt. It never hurt with Woo. 

He felt like he was a blushing school boy again when Wooyoung’s knee peeked out of his ridiculously tight ripped jeans, and he felt that way too when Wooyoung’s hand slipped over the zipper of his jeans. San knew people were surrounding them, just trying to drink and party peacefully but hopefully Hongjoong didn’t mind that he and his boyfriend liked to ruin some things. And that Wooyoung liked to ruin San in front of God and everybody. 

He let out a mmhph in Woo’s mouth, and kissed him deeper, ears burning red. “So pretty, my San is.” 

God 

Wooyoung was all fucking sin- with his messy silver hair, glamorous smile, and his stupid, stupid, stupid outfits. He always went above and beyond wherever they went, whether it be an hour lecture once a day, he found any excuse to dress absolutely outrageous. San would often notice people staring at the way Woo would pull off jeans with too many zippers, and with the way body jewelry would scatter across his chest and shirt. San had to sometimes wipe the drool off his mouth. 

Stupid Wooyoung. 

“Don’t say that- people are staring.” 

A giggle blossomed out of his mouth, and Wooyoung only held San tighter and did something absolutely magnificent with his tongue that made his hips and mind stutter. 

“Okay, we really have to go somewhere else with this.” Hongjoong interjected with a large hand in between their close bodies. 

“You’re giving San a heart attack.” 

He felt himself blush, and he worrisomely put his hands over his ears. Wooyoung only laughed and pulled San on his lap, allowing a small space for Hongjoong to sit. Hongjoong huffed and sat down on the shitty couch and his drink spilled a little on his jeans- but he didn’t even glance as the droplets hit his thigh. “Have we met?” 

“Don’t be dumb Joong, I didn’t die.” San replied swatting his hand away. 

“Well since you left for University, this is your first time seeing me after what, 4 months?” 

Wooyoung interjected, leaning back on the sofa, wide arms spreading out along the top of the couch, “It was two months. Don’t be so dramatic.” San looked back at Wooyoung who looked way too fucking good, sprawled out like that, and he felt his heart drop a little. 

Damn, Wooyoung might really give him a heart attack. 

Hongjoong sat up, both eyebrows raising, “It felt like forever!” His drink was now in the air sloshing wildly, hitting innocent citizens in the path. “I missed you!” 

San rolled his eyes, “It is now summer. You have me all to yourself Joongie.” 

Hongjoong seemed satisfied with this answer, and he leaned back a little hesitantly. “Are you positively positive posi San?” His pinky was out for San to link with, and his rings and bracelets jangled noisily. 

Hongjoong was fucking wasted. 

They linked pinkies, and Wooyoung snorted at the two’s silly childish movement. 

San had known Hongjoong for longer than he had known Woo, and Hongjoong probably knew everything about him. Down to his mother, down to his feelings, and down to the way he ordered at Mcdonalds. Hongjoong was loud, comet-like, and sometimes he lived in his own Solar System. But his system revolved around his friends, and his love for others. Hongjoong gave his all when he loved, and he loved with his all. San was jealous, but also admired the way his hyung, Hongjoong, was so fucking fearless. 

He wished to be like that one day. 

Fearless.


	2. You'd be blinded by the colors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> San thinks everything is too bright

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellooooo my peeps, I have like, switched everyone's ages around in this fic for purposes of plot. Jongho is the oldest (Idk, he got lucky as the party guy). I forgot to mention that in the notes of the first chapter; I had to put this disclaimer before someone commented policing me about how I don't know ateez.

San remembers the first time he met Wooyoung. 

Wooyoung was quiet, observant, and intense. If San was being honest- it made him really, really fucking nervous. 

San painfully remembers- actually. 

San’s mother had been in a bad mood, but today was what he called her “off days” and it was worse than most. Her medicine had been neglected on the counter, collecting dust, and dirty dishes were sprawled all over every surface. At times he was grateful that he didn’t have that many friends because he was embarrassed about the living space. Not to pity himself or anything- but all he had was Hongjoong and Yeosang. They already knew what his life was like, theirs wasn’t much better. But at least their parents cared about them. Poverty was such a serious thing that either made someone, or it broke someone. There was never a peaceful in between, San thought. 

Either you were okay with being poor, or you were ashamed of being poor. San felt tight envy in his chest whenever he would go over to Yeosang’s or Hongjoong’s house. He would try to happily watch as their parents would cook dinner and laugh, hug each other, kiss Yeosang’s head, go more than an hour without fighting. They had hot water, food, and love. That is all San could really ask for, and he thought shamefully that he felt pathetic. 

He sometimes marked hot water off his list in the summer because the sun would warm the water pipes during the day, and he would often go skating with friends, so he was hot and ready for a lukewarm shower. 

His friends had such nice families that he wished sometimes, so, so deeply, that he could have that too. Not even two parents, maybe just one happy mom. The way she used to be. The way she used to love so unconditionally. 

San didn’t hate his mom though, he loved her. 

Which was pretty conflicting. 

Hongjoong or Yeosang never understood as San would come to them with a loud stomach, or when he would come with a tear streaked face and a story. They never understood why he always went back. Four words. 

His mom needed him. 

Although she was doing terrible, San still had the responsibility of keeping her alive, even if he was doing a shitty job. 

If someone never had to love with someone as a mental illness in their close family, they would probably never understand why the relative still loved them and understood that they were not the monster- the sickness was. 

San never blamed his mom, no matter how bad he wanted to fucking hate her. Although, he felt like sometimes he did. 

After every time she would leave for days, after every time she would yell, after every time she would say the cruelest things, he hated her. He wanted to grow. 

His mother that day, had come home stumbling. Her eyes had the “glaze”, but she wasn’t just manic- she was messed up on something. There wasn’t a smell coming from her, so he ruled out alcohol pretty quickly. Xanax was the only other option. 

What happened afterwards, is something San thought he would never tell anyone. 

Wooyoung was an exception. 

Bright, beautiful, and observant Wooyoung. 

San hated telling people about things like that- he didn’t want anyone to think he was throwing some pity party that screamed “Hey feel bad for me!”. He especially didn’t want someone to think that he was asking for attention or doing a ‘cry for help’. That was the last thing he ever wanted. 

After what happened, San didn’t even bother to tell his friends. This- this was different. Something he never had to deal with before- maybe he was making a big deal out of it, right? Didn’t every kid have to shove their hands down their mother’s throat and reroot her. Didn’t they have to pull them out of a suicide? 

Of course not. Of course not. It was fucked up and unfair. 

After that day, he went to Hongjoong’s. 

San put on his brave face, and he just dealt with it. Because life wasn’t ever fucking fair, but he dealt with it. She was alive, so why would he be upset about it? Shouldn’t he be grateful and not blow it out of proportion. 

Right. 

He and Hongjoong had just lazed around that day, watching Ouran High School Host Club, and sitting in a comfortable silence with a few comments here and there about characters. San knew Hongjoong knew something, but he didn’t know exactly what. Hongjoong knew San well enough, and he could tell that his energy wasn’t all the way there. San wasn’t really a debbie downer, due to what his internal dialogue told you. He was a bubbly person that tried to ignore a lot of bad things around him. 

“Hikaru and Kaoru are kind of cute.” Hongjoong said, sipping his juice. Out of a straw. San thought that he was still convinced he was seven. 

“Kind of? They are hot.” 

“But like- aren't the incestuous? Isn’t that a thing? Or am I imagining it?” 

“Wait, what?” 

Hongjoong sat up, sucking on his straw furiously to get the last drops out, and he tossed it in the nearby trashcan...but he missed it. San saw his shoulders sag, and his lips purse. 

“You’re gonna get that, right?” San gestured to the juice box laying lonely beside the waste basket. 

“Maybe.” 

They both stared at the juice box. 

Hongjoong turned back to him, his hoodie bunching up over his small frame, and he pointed at the screen, which was now playing Hikaru and Kaoru getting uncomfortably close, with the remote. “You mean to tell me that isn’t suggested romance.” 

“Maybe they’re close? I mean, they are twins.” 

“Yeah, just two bros chilling in a host club, two inches apart because they’re not gay.” 

San almost choked on his straw, “That-that is the appeal! They’re doing it because it is part of the main draw to their persona they put on for the Host Club.” 

“Yeah, but have you looked real close?” 

Hongjoong paused the screen, and wildly gestured to the scene in front of them. Hikaru and Kaoru were intertwined, flushes prominent on their high cheekbones, and they looked blissed. 

“Okay- maybe. Maybe they have something going on.” 

“Maybe?” 

“Y-Yeah- I don’t know-” 

Hongjoong scoffed, and San smiled fondly at him. Hongjoong was always so fiery and ready to debate, he was passionate. 

“Yeosang will settle this. He always agrees with me.” 

“He does?” 

Hongjoong tossed a pillow San’s way, and San caught it. “Don’t be a brat.” He said it sternly, but his face was smiley. 

They both turned back to the screen, at the paused picture, and sat in a comfortable silence. San was a little shocked that the writers would suggest incest- unless it was all for show. Still a mystery to him, though. 

“Are you good?” Hongjoong’s voice brought San out from his mind, uprooting him the ground he sat so still on. 

“Yeah, I am just thinking about the show.” 

“Mm.” 

It was silent for again. 

“No, I wanna know what is really wrong.” 

San looked at Hongjoong was suddenly serious, and his eyes were focused intently on San’s brown ones. San felt his stomach twist a bit, he couldn’t know right? 

“Everything is fine Joongie,” but San thought he didn’t really look that convinced, and that made San feel bad for lying to him. Like a rocket not ready for blast off. 

“You don’t have to tell me now, but just know that it is okay. You always have me.” 

San knew Hongjoong meant what he said, but at this point it was hard for San to feel anything besides sadness for what he pulled his friends through. He knew Hongjoong was serious and genuine, but San was so used to dealing with things on his own, he didn’t ever want to burden him with these things. Besides, there were kids who had it much worse than him. 

Doesn’t mean it hurt any less though. 

The glass side door that led to the mini living area slid open, revealing Yeosang, Seonghwa (who he did not really know that well, just that they went to the same school), and Wooyoung. 

Like, the hot Wooyoung that knew all of his friends, but him. San wasn’t much of the partying type. 

He knew Yeosang was on his way, but not with visitors. 

San often stayed home (mostly to take care of his mom) and no matter how much Hongjoong and Yeosang tried to pull him out, he would just smile and wave them on. Parties were always fun, but they were suffocating. San hated to be dramatic, but they made him feel even more invisible. 

If that made any sense. 

But his friends couldn’t relate. They had their own separate partying crowd and friends, who would stay over on nights that San never did, and they would all drink and get so high that their feet didn’t even touch the ground. 

Seonghwa and Wooyoung were part of that group, but San didn’t really mind. From what he had heard, they both were really cool people who fit with Hongjoong and Yeosang’s personalities well. They all floated together, revolving in their high harmony and boisterous laughs. Their dynamic reminded him of a cluster of balloons that stuck together through the static and rubber squeaks. They would drift into the blue sky, their bright colors stark against the pastel sky, highlighting their beauty. A wistful sort of feelings would be evoked as people would watch them glide and fly- everyone envied the youthful friend group. 

The group you would look at and wish that you could just know how they fit so well, how they click- a sort of wonder. 

San thought they all looked great together. 

He felt himself blush when Yeosang looked at the paused screen, two see two anime dudes about to kiss- who also were twins. 

“Ouran High School Host Club?” Yeosang asked, plopping down next to San and pulling him close. San didn’t ever want to admit it, but Yeosang was so comforting and warm. He made him feel all nice on the inside- he wouldn’t trade Sang for the world. He threw his leg over his and tilted his head on Sang’s shoulder. 

Yeosang and he had always co-existed peacefully, they never needed words to understand each other. 

Wooyoung and Seonghwa were all obviously close to Joong and Sang because they all made themselves comfortable in the mini living area, and Wooyoung even tossed the infamous juice box in the can. 

San felt himself relax into Yeosang’s arms, and he huffed. “Yes, but it wasn’t really my idea. I have already seen it a thousand times.” 

Hongjoong leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, “Hot debate. Real question.” 

It was silent. 

“Do you think the Hitachiin twins are gay for each other?” 

Yeosang groaned, “We have this debate all the time Joong.” 

Hongjoong furrowed his brow and leaned back against the sofa. “Well, San here thinks they’re just some good bro’s who are doing it for the fanservice aspect.” 

Wooyoung, who had been silent so far, interjected, “I mean- that is what I thought too.” 

San tried not to look at Wooyoung- he was, like, really hot, and he didn’t feel like blushing and having Yeosang cruelly call him out, because he was like that. 

Seonghwa’s bright smile erupted and he laughed, “Joong you always talk about this. They’re not.” 

Hongjoong was not satisfied with the answers he received, and he squinted at San, “I will destroy you.” 

He felt everyone’s eyes on him as they laughed- everyone but Wooyoung. He wasn’t much of the laughing type, San could only guess. 

San’s ears tipped red, “Try me.” 

Yeosang playfully kicked out his leg at Hongjoong and squeezed San tighter to him, “Leave San alone, he is a baby.” 

Embarrassed that Wooyoung and Seonghwa had to hear him called that, he pushed Yeosang away grumpily, and let himself fall back against the arm rest of the couch, angling himself away from the others. Yeosang playfully knocked into his knee and gave him a reassuring smile- he definitely knew San was nervous around the two new people. 

“I don’t see you around here often.” Wooyoung’s voice was loud and clear, but for some reason it didn’t quite register that he was talking to him. Talking to San. His brain hiccupped. 

Seonghwa swooped in, “He is always here- but never when we are here,” he said with kindness in his voice, that San really appreciated. So, Seonghwa didn’t think he was a total loser- nice. 

San met Wooyoung’s eyes and his heart probably dropped to his ass in record time. 

Why did Wooyoung have to be that hot and why did he have to have the prettiest eyes and eye shape he has ever seen? Was that allowed? 

Oh, and why did he have to look so damn good in his loose black hoodie? 

God San he is just a boy. A hot one. Who was really pretty eyes. And he plays piano apparently, according to Sang. 

“Do you not like us?” Wooyoung pressed. 

Before Yeosang could speak, San interjected. 

San felt his mouth was dry and he felt his tongue rest hesitantly in his mouth. “How do I know if I don’t like you if I have never talked to you.” 

“I am just assuming-” 

“Sounds about right.” 

Hongjoong cackled, tossing a pillow at San, “You’re so fiery today Sannie.” 

Everyone laughed and resumed talking about whatever they were discussing, and San tried to listen in intently and join the conversation- but he felt a pair of eyes on him the entire time. 

Wooyoung’s gaze was curious, and it lingered heavily on San’s face, then it dropped to his chest, to his legs, and back up to his floppy hair that covered his forehead. San felt his cheeks splatter with crimson, his toes dip into the smoke, and his body erupt under the scrutiny of Wooyoung’s eyes. 

Huh. 

San doesn’t really believe in that bullshit about love at first sight- because he had seen Wooyoung before. Wooyoung had seen him before. Nothing like this had happened before. He felt like a school girl over analyzing every move her crush that she swooned over made, but he knew when his center of gravity was off. He knew when his tilt had tilted too far, and San knew when everything stopped moving. 

Wooyoung was important- but he did not know exactly why. Except that he wanted to know him, and that he wanted to see him more. 

Wooyoung’s eyes didn’t say much, but they spoke of curiosity. 

San had felt really fucking crazy that day- he wasn’t Merlin or some prophet. But his gut told him many different stories. 

Wooyoung broke the short 3 second gaze, and pulled a blunt to his mouth, pulling the smoke in deep, and exhaling smoothly. Right, he had done this countless of times. So had Seonghwa, Yeosang, and Hongjoong. San politely refused the joint going around, thankful that Yeosang took him serious enough to offer it, and it went over to Seonghwa who was laughing about something some guy Yunho had done. 

“He like-like yeeted himself out of there.” 

“Yeeted?” 

“Yoted.” 

“Is that past-tense?” 

San rolled his eyes- even if he did want to be an English teacher, he wasn’t going to think about all the ways the word Yeet could be written, and if these ways were particularly correct. 

San tuned back into everyone’s conversation and noticed that Wooyoung had not said anything yet. San wondered if it was always like that. It wasn’t like Wooyoung talked a lot in school either though. San’s ears perked up where Hongjoong had mentioned a party. 

“Some MSU kid named Jongho is throwing it. He has a DJ which is like- dope, so I am down if you’re down guys.” 

“Is it a frat party?” Yeosang asked, taking another hit, his red eyes watered as the smoke went down harshly. 

“No. Jongho lives in this big ass house close to campus though.” 

“Dope.” 

“Can we stop saying ‘dope’?” 

“No.” 

Hongjoong rolled his eyes, “Anyways, do you guys want to go?” 

Several choruses of ‘Yes’ filled the air, but San didn’t say anything. This, even Yeosang knew not to ask. It was always a no. 

Wooyoung’s eyes were once more on him, but so was everyone else’s. 

“I need to get back home to my mom.” 

Shit, his mom. He hadn’t spoke to her since. 

Hongjoong’s eyes met his, “San you could just stay here and wait for us to comeback. We will be back around 2 or 3 in the morning, you know my mom wouldn’t give a fuck.” 

San shook his head, “No I really need to go back.” 

“To your mom?” Seonghwa asked. “Aren’t you like 17?” 

San really didn’t want to explain- it wasn’t Seonghwa’s fault that he was used to freedom and granted privileges by his parents. When a child never had any curfews, limits, or anything holding him back in general, they never seemed to understand the concept of parents having a chokehold even when you’re almost an adult. Everyone in the room was 18, except for San. Yet, he felt he had a better grasp on adulthood than the others. 

Even as you grow, your parents can still clip the pinion of your wings, they can still bind your arms together and keep you as their bird in a cage. 

Your beautiful singing voice could chirp as loud as it wanted- but not if your parents had quelled you. 

Then gravity applied to you. 

“San, earth to fucking San.” 

“I-” 

“Stay.” Hongjoong said. 

Wooyoung’s curious eyes were once more back in his orbit, his solar system of thoughts whirled soundlessly through space and time. 

So, San stayed. 

 

 

The Kim’s had a cozy house. It was always warm, and the smell of cookies was often present even when the attender of the house was outside. It was like walking into a blanket of hugs, smiles, and gentle hands. Hongjoong’s mother was always so kind, and she treated San like her own. Her squeezes were always his favorite. Next to Yeosang’s, of course. 

While all of them were poor, the Kim’s and Kang’s always had their houses tidy, and while the outside looked run down, the houses were filled with love that spilled over the top with rich colors of flourishing ambers, and brilliant whites. San swore he could see the love from a mile away, and the brilliant colors that painted the pathways golden. 

Hongjoong’s mother didn’t ever ask if San was staying the night, she didn’t care. Sometimes if he tried to leave, she would pull him back in and smack him on the head with her wrinkled hands. 

“Stay.” 

So, San would stay. 

San would envy the grace and elegance of Hongjoong’s mother. He felt himself feel for his mother, who would never know how to be like that again. He wondered if she ever felt bad that she couldn’t ever go back either. His heart ached for his mom. He wished all the happiness for her sometimes. 

San had stayed when Hongjoong asked him. He stayed, and he slept. 

He didn’t want to think of what his mother was doing- it only pulled anxiety from his veins and ran it through his bones. 

Don’t think about it. 

Don’t think about it. 

Don’t think about it. 

Could he think about how pretty Wooyoung was? Was that an option? Did he even want to allow himself to want something that he knew he could never have? 

The answer was no, so, San didn’t think about it. 

Even if Wooyoung’s eyes would creep back into his thoughts. 

But, he really couldn’t help but think of Wooyoung when Wooyoung himself came through the glass sliding doors. Already tipsy, and his appearance messy- but he still looked good. 

He looked up and his eyes widened at San who was sitting on the couch sipping a juice box. A damn juice box that he made fun of Hongjoong for having. 

“Oh, you are still here. Hongjoong said you would stay, but I was betting money that you wouldn’t.” 

San looked over at the clock- 10:24 PM. 

“You are back early.” 

“The party kind of sucked. I just came back here because I had nothing better to do. The rest are having fun though.” 

Wooyoung ran a hand through his black hair, and he plopped down on the floor, in a heap of black clothing- and black everything, San thought, and noticed. Amusing. 

It was silent for a moment, except for the TV running an ad for toothpaste playing softly in the background. 

“Why didn’t you go?” 

San felt his stomach twist as Wooyoung rolled over on his side, to face him, a strong arm propping his head up. His eyes were intense. The most interesting part though, was that San was pretty sure that Wooyoung didn’t mean to come off as intense. His eyes were just- piercing. 

“I never go. I dunno- I am not a big fan of parties.” 

“Too loud?” 

“No, not really.” 

“Too many people?” 

San hummed, “No, not that either.” 

Wooyoung squinted at him, “Then what is it?” 

“I just don’t like them. I can’t really explain it.” 

“I don’t buy it, there is a reason behind everything.” He said, with shocking confidence. Wooyoung looked sure of himself and that statement. Odd, he didn’t seem like the type to have such a strong system of beliefs. 

“I don’t really know what to think of that” 

“What?” 

“That I am not the type to have a strong system of beliefs.” 

Oh, San had said that out loud. 

“I am sure in everything that I do. I don’t really like to question my actions, because then I will never know the outcome. Doesn’t that bother you? Doesn’t it bother you that you don’t know exactly what you believe in?” 

San really wasn’t prepared for this conversation, especially with Wooyoung who he had just talked to for the first time. Were conversations like this normal with people you just met? Is that how the kids nowadays make friends? 

“No, not really. I think it’s okay to not know what you don’t know. If that makes any sense. I think it is okay to be unsure. I like to leave room for the unknown.” 

Wooyoung wasn’t expecting that answer, and he rolled back to his back, letting his eyes close. 

“I am kind of drunk right now. I was trying to get laid, but that didn’t work.” He said randomly. San was really caught of guard by Wooyoung so far. 

Was this normal? 

“A nice college girl didn’t catch your eye?” San uncurled his legs from underneath himself, and he propped his elbow on the arm rest, taking a long sip from his juice. 

Wooyoung laughed- which sounded like a bunch of tinkling bells that the East wind would blow in during the winter. 

“Or a nice boy. Everyone seemed clingy.” 

Oh, he liked boys and girls too. So did San. That was something he didn’t know. He stored that information for later. His stomach did a tiny flip. 

“Sorry.” 

“It’s okay. I can just try again tomorrow.” 

So, Wooyoung getting laid was a common occurrence. He would too, store that information for later. He didn’t know when that would be useful, but he supposes it might be soon. San liked to know people. 

“Did you know we live in the same neighborhood?” Wooyoung asked. His eyes were still closed. 

They did? 

“We do?” 

“Yeah, but I live several houses down. I have just seen you walking from school before. I dunno, I thought it was interesting. I don’t think you ever noticed.” 

“I guess I am not observant. I tend to just like, daydream.” 

“You do that a lot. I have noticed. I don’t think it’s a bad thing though, you seem like you’re thinking of some pretty deep stuff, like Aristotle shit or something.” 

“You’re still really drunk.” 

Wooyoung hummed, his eyes now open, looking at the water stained ceiling, his orbs dancing over the different patterns. San wondered if he looked for shapes like he did. 

“Do you see any shapes?” San asked, but immediately regretted it. His face flushed a rosy hue and he looked at the TV to do anything but avoid eye contact. 

Wooyoung laughed, bringing in the bells again, but on a different sound wave. This time it was pretty silver chimes that glistened in the sun. 

“Yeah. I see a dick.” 

“Seems fitting.” 

They sat in a comfortable pause, Wooyoung co existing silently in the floor while San looked up at the ceiling. He found it surprisingly easy to just be with Wooyoung. It was nice, and unexpected, and he seemed to have so many different dimensions to him. 

San also did something brave, and he spoke first. 

“I didn’t go to the party because I feel really small. I feel like I realize how small and insignificant we are in comparison to the whole world. Parties are only small portions of people if you think about it. Some people at that party may never even look your way, and then you realize that maybe they never will. Not to be some emo shit. Or sound fake deep. Also, you were right, it is too loud. It gives me headaches.” 

Wooyoung pulled himself up against the bottom of the couch facing in front of San, and he hauled his leg up to his chest. He rested a hand on a hole in the knee of his jeans and looked at him. 

“I never really thought of it like that. I think I can be a loud person, contrary to your belief maybe, so I don’t think I ever feel small. But, I might one day, so I see what you’re saying.” 

San appreciated his answer, he didn’t completely make fun of him like he thought he would- he understood. 

Huh. 

“You’re pretty.” 

San spluttered, Hongjoong’s stupid plastic juice box splashed sticky red over his long fingers, and he felt himself fly into the sky. 

“Everyone thinks you’re pretty, it’s not new.” 

“I- oh- yeah, thanks,” San finished lamely, his mind still spinning. 

Wooyoung called him pretty. 

Great, how his crush will never really go away. 

“Well, it is new for me to hear it. I suppose.” 

“Huh, I thought you would have had a girlfriend at least once.” 

“Or boyfriend,” San said, feeling a sense of Deja-vu. 

“Or a boyfriend.” Wooyoung agreed, a small smile appearing on his lips. 

“You have never had a boyfriend or girlfriend either and everyone thinks you’re pretty too,” San pointed out. 

“You think I’m pretty?” Wooyoung asked flirtatiously, leaning forward. Though they were separated by two different couches, and a whole ass beanbag, he still felt himself lean back. 

“I mean- doesn't everyone?” His stupid flushed ears were definitely betraying him right now, he could tell by the sting on the sides of his head. He wanted to melt in the ground, but somehow play it off cool. 

He could be cool. 

Right. Totally smooth. Cool. 

Cool. 

“Probably,” Wooyoung said with a cheeky smile. “But you think it so that counts for a lot.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous.” San said hurriedly, trying to escape this conversation as fast as possible. He had to blast. 

Wooyoung raised a brow, and leaned back against the couch, a small smile playing on his features. He looked like the villain from a movie, but like, the hot villain that everyone wants to smash. 

Typical. 

“So, tell me about yourself San. All I know is that somehow, you’re friends with Yeosang and Hongjoong, and that you are planning to go to FU in Hancock after this summer. You live in my neighborhood and you might like anime. I am not sure yet. Oh, and you don’t like to party.” 

“This is random,” San said, his flush on his cheeks finally setting and dimming like the sun. His blush slipping into twilight. 

“But it is needed. I know everyone at school- but you. I am going to Finlandia University also, so it would be nice to know at least you.” 

Hongjoong and Yeosang hadn’t that someone else from their school had gotten into FU. 

“I like the color brown.” 

“Brown?” 

“Yeah.” 

“That is...interesting.” 

“I- I think it is warm. It has like all of these feelings evoked when I see it.” 

“Kinda weird, but I get it,” Wooyoung said, fiddling with the strings on his jeans. “Wait, didn’t someone in Twilight say their favorite color was brown?” 

“I have no clue, I am not a vampire fan. Or a werewolf fan.” 

“That is interesting also.” 

Wooyoung’s eyes were on San again, and they were doing that thing where they go up and down all over him. Studying. Thinking. 

“What are you thinking of?” 

“That you’re different from what I expected. Hongjoong and Sang describe you as magnetic but I didn’t really know what they meant by that, but I get it now. You’re really mature and understanding.” 

San felt his heart speed up a little bit, and he smiled. 

“Yeah, I kind of have to be.” 

Wooyoung and San didn’t stop talking that night- they never shut up. 

Wooyoung telling San how much he hated writing essays, and San telling Wooyoung how much he loved writing essays. Or San telling him about things he never really thought talking about, and Wooyoung saying things that San never thought would ever cross Wooyoung’s mind. San wondered how they never talked before- it just felt real and right. 

They never shut up. 

Even after the rest of the boys showed up drunk, giggling, and messy at 5am. Seonghwa had given San a big smooch on his cheek and pulled him close, “You’re so nice. So nice.” 

Hongjoong and Yeosang smiled fondly and pulled Hwa into their embrace. They were all flushed, their eyes bright from their sparkling night, and their chests heavy with stars. 

“The DJ was like- so dope. He played so many of your favorite songs Sannie. So epic.” 

San looked over at Wooyoung, who now had Yeosang slipping out his jeans covered in alcohol. This seemed to be a routine they had. 

Seonghwa and Hongjoong had curled up on the beanbag together, and they already looked peaceful. Like they had too much fun in their night of adventures. 

The sun was coming up slowly pouring amber across the grass and spilling champagne secrets over the windows and floors of the Kim’s living rooms. It painted the boys golden and lit them up like the Voyager Golden Record. 

The record meant for extraterrestrial life but played the tune of humanity in its hums of bliss and the glory of youth. 

It was haunting.


	3. Yellow, Red and Orange and Green

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> San doesn't see the rainbow

San loved getting fucked by Wooyoung.

Okay- maybe that was too direct, but he wasn’t lying when he said he  _loved _it.__

____

Wooyoung's fingers, his dick, his moans- the slam of his hips, the filthy words he whispered in San’s ear as he absolutely wrecked him into a sobbing mess.

____

Yeah, San fucking  _loved _it.__

______ _ _

And he told Wooyoung that, as he fucked him further into his bed. 

______ _ _

“Fu-fuck  _Wooyoung _.” His ass clenched around Wooyoung’s cock as it slammed back in harshly, pushing San’s body further up the mattress, his head bumping into the headboard with quick succession.__

______ _ _

__

______ _ _

__Woo swooped down for a messy kiss that was all tongue and teeth, but he did it just right, so right, and San whined helplessly into his mouth. Wooyoung pulled back to admire San’s sweaty body and the undeniable angry redness to his cock as it lay leaking onto his stomach. “This is so much better than your doom room bed,” he groaned._ _

________ _ _ _ _

Getting fucked by Wooyoung was a bit of a magical experience to say the least- and dear god was it surreal. 

________ _ _ _ _

Think of the best orgasm in your life but multiply it by the strengths of a thousand Wooyoungs in your senses telling you that you’re “so fucking hot” and “so good for me” and the “I might let you come if you beg, oh, so,  _prettily _,” whispered into your ear as you’re sobbing into the soft pillow he placed underneath you.__

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

Yeah. 

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

San writhed as Wooyoung sent a devilish smile his way from above and his hips thrusted up, also pushing San’s hips up, and let his pointed finger and thumb form an ‘okay’ sign. Wooyoung’s hand in the sign carefully slipped over the head of San’s cock and-  _oh-_ he was edging him.

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

Each controlled hip roll pushed San’s dick through the ring of Woo’s fingers and as San felt he could come any moment- Wooyoung lifted the ring. 

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

“God- can you fucking stop. I am trying to come.”

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

Wooyoung twisted a nipple harshly and he felt a single tear roll down his face and drip down the sides of his flushed neck, but not before Wooyoung caught it with his finger and ran the wet digit over the other neglected nipple. And yeah, okay, that was pretty fucking hot. 

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

“I know you’re trying to come baby, but I don’t want you to. I didn’t say you could,  _did I_?” The last syllable wasn’t punctuated with a period, it was put to an end with warm fist closing over San’s head and his cock weeping for release. 

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

“N-no you did not.”

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

Wooyoung quickly changed the angle, startling San out of his bliss (and temper tantrum). He whined from the feeling of loss his ass felt but he was quickly rewarded with his boyfriend’s strong arms twisting San around to face the wall. He felt Wooyoung shift towards the end of the bed, letting his legs dangle over the edge. San felt himself being pulled towards his boyfriend’s lap and he was met with Wooyoung adjusting his ass over his thick cock.

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

Oh.

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

He pulled San on top of his dick but San- had to face the opposite way. All he could feel was Wooyoung’s strong thighs underneath his, and his hot mouth and plush lips on his neck. Wooyoung’s large, and magical hands, reached around San’s tiny waist and held him steady as he slowly fucked into him. 

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

“How is this?”

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Shut the fuck up, you know it’s n-n-nice,” he breathed letting himself appreciate the new take. This way he felt every inch of his boyfriend’s cock, and he felt Wooyoung’s tongue sinfully graze his spine, dipping in the small ridges. Everything was so hot, wet, and messy. Just the way they both liked it.

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Really? I can’t tell that you like it-”

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

“How is that?”

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

“I can’t quite  _hear_  you.”

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

Which was, by the way, totally a taunt, and a challenge. San was loud already, but Woo loved to get him screaming.

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

Oh, and crying.

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Stop Woo, you know I am already loud enough-”

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Mmm, don’t think so partner.” San felt himself laugh, “D-do-don't call me partner while you’re fucking balls deep in me.”

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Yes sir,” Wooyoung teased playfully pulling San’s arms behind his back, making San lean confusedly a little more forward, and used his grip on his wrists and then slammed into him even harder than he was before.  The stretch of his cock was a bit much but he liked the pain if he was being honest. Wooyoung always tried to prep him for a while but San was impatient often and swatted his hands away. He loved getting fingered, but he wanted a little burn.

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Yes-yes- yes Wooyoung that feels so good,” he said breathlessly, head lolling back. From this position he could feel Wooyoung’s comforting presence behind him, and his thick cock filling him up just the way he loved it. Just the way he begged for it.

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

Wooyoung crossed San’s wrists together into an X and then used the other hand to have a steady grip on San’s shoulder.

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

“You’re so pretty like this Sannie- you make me feel so fucking good.” 

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

San keened at the praise and let his head drop forward while his hair bounced and stuck to his sweaty forehead. He wished he could turn his head and look at Wooyoung’s face, because he just knew it was hot. Like it always was.

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

Wooyoung always had a look of concentration on his face when he and San fooled around, but there was always the ghost of a smile on his face when he made San come. 

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

Depending on the night, Wooyoung liked to make San come three or four times, and with each sob, his face would become masked by a sly grin.

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

It was obviously one of Wooyoung’s favorite things.

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

The first time they fucked, it was just as hot, and as San recalls, just as desperate.

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

Desperate, messy, breathy, and passion and tension filled. 

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

It seemed to get  _better_  every time though, and San felt like with each time he came on different days that his body became even more strained and more passionate and more taut- like a string on a violin. Wooyoung was the bow that played the first resonating note.

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

He didn’t know how, but every time he felt like he couldn’t contain any more pleasure than the bliss he was experiencing in the moment. Wooyoung always made him feel different.

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

The pleasure kept building, the treasure in his reach every time, and he felt even more crazy with lust.

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

Wooyoung was just that fucking good. 

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

Wooyoung’s hips moved relentlessly, hitting San’s prostate with every drag, making his mouth drop open and his moans hitched higher. 

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

“There you go, that’s what I want to hear.”

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

San let out a small cry and his head hung even lower as he pushed his ass back in rthym with his thrusts. The sounds of squelching and both he and Wooyoung’s groans filled the room.

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Wooyoung I am really close- really, really, really, really close-”

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Hold it.”

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

San whined, “ _I can’t.”_

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

Wooyoung’s hand left his shoulder and reached around to find San’s nipples- bingo.

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

“No-no-no-Wooyoung-”

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

Wooyoung pinched harshly but then soothed the rose petal colored bud with a soft thumb grazing ever so slightly over the nerves. San’s head felt dizzy and his thoughts began to jumble helplessly, he was floating, and he felt so, so, so nice. His moans became garbled messes with unintelligible words dripping out of his cotton candy mouth. 

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Hhhng-”

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

Wooyoung had the audacity to laugh at San’s spillage of carousel music from his tipped over merry-go-round mouth, and he let go of his wrists, pulling his back close to his chest. They were now smushed together and he could feel the quick fire of Wooyoung’s heartbeat against his heaving back. Wooyoung got a hold of the now limp arms and vined his way down to San's hands and slipped his fingers between San's clammy ones. He pulled their conjoined hands to San's chest to allow a sweet moment between them.

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Shh, it’s okay baby.”

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

San let his head fall back on the summit of his boyfriend’s shoulder and he let the sun down of his orgasm reach closer to the crest. Civil Twilight formed in his stomach and Wooyoung whispered oh so beautifully in his ear, “You can come.”

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

Six. Six. Six. Six. Six degrees.

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

San came with a hiccup of gasps and sweet dusk that painted Wooyoung’s fists and long fingers.

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

Wooyoung came immediately after him like he had been waiting for San to come on his cock, and he pulled San tighter into his embrace as he fucked him from behind chasing into his tight heat.

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

"You're so hot what the fuck." Wooyoung breathed in the silence. 

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

Both sat still catching their breaths, not bothering to move.

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

Wooyoung then lifted his fingers coated in come and brought them to San’s lips- who took it all greedily.

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

Civil Twilight had now slipped into Nautical Twilight, then ever so gently poured into Astronomical.

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

He was complete.

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

Wooyoung and San fell back onto Wooyoung’s bed, gasping. The sheets were cool from the fan being on the highest mode above them and they soothed San's flushed being. 

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

Wooyoung started in the tranquility, “Like I said, way better than the dorm beds. I fucking swear my hip hasn’t been the same since we slipped off last time.”

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

“God,” San groaned, “Never again. Plus, it was terrifying because Mingi could have walked in at any minute. I don’t want to traumatize him...again.”

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

Wooyoung let out his signature squeaky giggle and ran his hand through his damp hair, “The  _look_ on his face when he saw you face down ass up-”

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Can we not discuss the trauma of my roommate seeing my boyfriend literally eating my ass.”

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Sorry, noted. Next time I will just bring up how you almost came from my tongue ins-” 

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

_“_ _Wooyoung_ _”_

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

_“_ So, you don’t want to remember that?”

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

“I do- but not out loud.”

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Meaning...?” he trailed off to face San, propping an elbow up to hold his face (that was holding a very sly grin).

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Meaning, it is embarrassing.”

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Me eating your ass?”

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

San’s cellphone rung out with the signature tune, also with saving grace, but it was muffled by the enormous pile of blankets and pillows on Wooyoung’s bed. Thank god, he didn't want to give Wooyoung the satisfaction of that conversation.

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Help me find my phone in this mess-”

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Mess?" Wooyoung said, already forgetting the ass conversation, "You mean my  _castle_? My pride and joy. This bed is a fucking cloud.”

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

San turned to look back at a Wooyoung who was laying model-like flat on the bed, with one arm above his head. San felt his heart skip and a splash of painted Canna Lilly fell petal-like onto his neck.

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

San flipped over several pillows as his phone began to ring again. Wooyoung was up with a sigh and he began tossing thick blankets over the side- and lo and behold- his phone. San thanked Wooyoung with a peck on his cheek- Wooyoung grumpily swatted him away, a spark of blush forming on his cheeks as he turned the other way.

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

San looked at the caller ID- Seonghwa.

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Hello?”

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

He looked over at Wooyoung who was now dressed in comfortable sweats and a hoodie. He pulled the hood up and turned on his side to watch San through his eyelashes.

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

He gulped.

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

“What are you doing?” Seonghwa asked from the other side of the phone, panting.

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Why are you breathing so heavily into the phone? Are you fucking someo-”

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

“What?” He asked his voice raising in pitch, “God. No. I am jogging. I am healthy.”

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

San listened closer and he could indeed hear the slap of Seonghwa’s feet hitting the pavement and the sounds of ducks cooling themselves off in the background.

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Right.”

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

“ _Anyways_ , what are you doing?”

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Nothing, I am at Wooyoung’s currently.”

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

“You two literally see each other all the time- he even got to see you when you were away because you went to the same damn college. We had to  _suffer_  without you and-”

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Seonghwa.”

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Oh, right- I was wondering if you wanted to come over to Hongjoong’s for a party.”

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Not really.” 

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Lame.”

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Okay Mr. I-am-so-healthy-living-an-exemplary-life-style.”

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

“ _Anyways_ , it is just a few of us and some of Joong’s college friends that you haven’t got to meet yet. They’re really nice and it’s nothing too crazy.”

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

In all honesty it didn’t sound that bad, and he knew Wooyoung was going to go because- well, he always did. It was the party group tradition, they always got fucked up, laughed too much, and had amazing nights. San liked to watch from afar and make fun of them. They were soaking up their youth and milking out every experience they could before the reality of the  _real_ world hit. Not to say that they didn’t already know what that was like- they all had it rough growing up and through high school.

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

But reaching the actual age of adulthood rather than the ‘adulthood’ their harsh experiences piled on them like too heavy stepping stones- was a bit scary to say the least.

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

Gravity was real, and it didn’t just let anyone float. Especially those who grew up with disadvantages. Life had a funny way of keeping the poor, poor, and the rich, rich. Life wasn’t hard for everyone, and that was a concept that San had trouble grasping. While of course, everyone has their issues, he couldn’t  _quite_  understand how people had such...normal lives. 

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

To some people consistency and normalcy is all they have ever known. The bliss of ignorance could be argued, because who was San to shame for having such a great life? They couldn’t help that they were blessed with whatever God decided to toss on them. 

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

But, he was working on it. He was working on breaking that stupid cycle that his family and society told him he couldn’t break out of; San was working extra hard to not end up like his mom. That was all the motivation he needed.

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

Gravity may not let him float, but it couldn’t stop him from creating wings.

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

Someday he would catch flight and his wings would snap like a rubber band and he would soar.

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

He would soar higher and higher and higher until he decided that he wanted to touch the earth’s floor. He wasn’t going to let gravity make that decision, he was going to land with a perfect form, and his caged voice free.

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Maybe.”

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Maybe?”

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

Wooyoung looked at San with a raised brow, San just shrugged.

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

He fell back into place beside Wooyoung who was still keeping those intense eyes on him...San wished it still didn’t make him nervous. He could keep wishing.

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

“I dunno- It just depends.”

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Well, I am not going to force you to come. But, we do have gummies. Lots of them.”

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

“You said that last time and they all ended up in your drinks for flavor.”

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

“But!” Seonghwa interjected, his pace slowing down with his breathing, “I saved you some this time”

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Well then.”

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Exactly. I thought of you, Sannie.”

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Mhm.”

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Mhm is right, San. Tell Wooyoung I said hello,” Seonghwa panted lightly, coming to a stop. “And to bring more alcohol.”

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Got it.” Wooyoung said from beside San, hearing Seonghwa through the phone.

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

San could almost feel Seonghwa smile through the phone- he bet his smile put the sun outside to shame. The ducks would want to bask in that light.

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Okay, well bye. I have to go. But, San, consider it. Think of alllll the gummies you could have in your hands and your mouth. Not just Wooyoung’s dick tonight- gummies too.”

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Thanks, I will consider it.”

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

The call ended with a click and San tossed his phone back into the mass of blankets- sorry, the  _castle_ , on the floor- hoping he would lose it forever this time.

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

San had grown to somewhat enjoy parties, character development and what-not, but he still couldn’t help that feeling of  _bad._  Wooyoung had explained one night that it might be the fact that he is surrounded by all the things his mother has issues with and that maybe he might feel guilty for enjoying something that makes his life so fucked up.

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

San thought Wooyoung was wrong, but the more he thought about it, the more it kind of made sense.

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

He didn’t necessarily feel bad to drink, because he knew how to drink in moderation. How to not love the feeling of being buzzed too much, because San knew limits and boundaries. He also didn’t mind watching his friends get fucked up because they didn’t have an addiction. They just had the wind beneath their wings.

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

San did think that maybe Wooyoung was right about the fact that being surrounded by the constant reminders of his mom wasn’t exactly helping. To each their own, though.

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

He hadn’t really talked to his mom since he left for FU, and he kind of liked it that way. She had called thousands of times, and in the beginning San answered. Not for long. Each answer was met with his mother’s slurred words or her rants being screamed into the speaker with her grand delusions. It was so mentally exhausting- but San knew cutting her off was  _right._

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

Whenever she texted sweet messages though, he couldn’t help but cry and answer back with kind words. He loved her too much to completely cut her off, the sugar cube messages were the past bits of her old self, and her old carousel music playing silver-belled memories. Her cruel phone calls and threats of her own suicide were salt cubes that were disguised as sweet, sweet, sugar.

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

He couldn’t help but hope for her golden merry-go-round that dripped with saccharine and clear Carillon chimes.

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

He was getting really tired of his mother consuming his thoughts, getting tired of having stupid mommy issues. He knew that he had to get a grip. Soon.

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

“You’re thinking.” Wooyoung observed.

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

“I know- crazy.”

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Mhm.”

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

San closed his eyes in the comfortable silence, allowing the serenity of Wooyoung’s home to wash over him. It was so peaceful.

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

“What are you thinking about?”

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

“You.”

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Right. Because I make you gaze off into the distance with sadness.”

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Your beauty brings me to despair.”

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

Wooyoung’s cheeks flushed, which always made San feel a little powerful, because he could make  _the_  Wooyoung blush with surprise. Wooyoung wasn’t really the type to let emotions show on the outside. He always just harnessed it in like pulling a dancing petal from the sky and swallowing it whole. Wooyoung liked to let it root, grow, and bloom within his throat to let the flower spill from his words in a garden full of grace. 

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

_There’s fennel for you, and columbines. There’s rue for you; and here’s some for me: we may call it herb of grace_ _a’Sundays_ _. You may wear your rue with a difference. There’s a daisy. I would give you some violets, but they withered all when my father died._

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

Wooyoung and San met eyes and San felt himself really taking a  _look_. Wooyoung’s eyes held nothing but sincerity and something else he couldn’t quite put his finger on- it was something he had never experienced in his 19 years of life.

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

“What are you honestly thinking about?”

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Now, I am thinking of you. That is not a lie.”

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

“But what about before?”

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

“My mom.”

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

Wooyoung suddenly flipped his hood off and reached over the edge of the bed to pull another hoodie from the ground. He didn’t say anything as he slipped on the hoodie for him and as San put back on his joggers. As they settled back down, Wooyoung lightly flicked a strand of hair out of San’s face, “Do you want to talk about it?”

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Kinda, but not yet.” San was always honest with Wooyoung, he would always tell him things when he was ready.

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

“I can skip the party tonight and we can just stay in?”

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

“No, I am totally okay with you going. I might go anyways.”

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Really?”

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Yeah, a distraction sounds nice. Plus, I miss everybody. Hongjoong is going to beat my ass, I haven’t spent as much time with him and Yeosang as I should have this week.”

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Don’t worry, you can be theirs all summer. You deserve some well-deserved fun with your best friends, it is well needed.”

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Well.”

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Well.”

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

Well.

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

As well as San could ever be in the moment.

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

Well.

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiiii everyone, I hoped you enjoyed this. Feel free to comment with any errors I made in the writing, I typically do not go back and edit anything. I just post and go. ALSOOO, do not fear my little ones, the story will pick up even though it doesn't seem like it! I have everything planned out but I might break it into smaller ones. Who honestly knows tbh. Anyways, hehe I love you all.


	4. And at least a million others

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> San likes the beach, and towels

San supposes there are better ways to cope with things.

He kind of just  _ignores_  his feelings, and he says “It’s okay! It is totally fine!” When really, he just wants to kick a door with a toothpick under his toenail.

But, like he says, it’s  _fine_ , he is  _fine._

When Wooyoung’s mom asked San what he wanted to do in college, he realized that he was the age where everyone stopped asking “What do you want to be when you grow up?”, and now they asked when you were going to decide to grow up. Yeah, that really sucked ass. San wanted to be a lot of things, and he knew it was stupid, but he knew for sure that he also wanted to be with Wooyoung forever.

They haven’t even said that they loved each other yet.

And San was already planning their life together with their three dogs and studio apartment with a massive glass wall with a yellow accent-

 _Wow_ , San was royally fucked.

He didn’t ever think he was going to be that person in a relationship, and he wasn’t going to show Wooyoung how head over heels he was already. That kind of shit could scare anyone- hell, that scared the fuck out of San because he doesn’t even love himself yet.

That was also a big issue that he never wanted to address.

So, he brings himself back to the question Wooyoung’s mother asked him almost one year ago, “What do you want to do in college?”

San had told her, “Anything.”

Anything.

Anything.

Anything but what this place offered him.

Wooyoung’s mom was really nice, and she reminded San of the ocean. The massive waves of love, her tethering fingers were the tides that slid over the cooling sand during the navy night, and her hugs were like pools. She was so  _nice_. San saw much of Wooyoung in her, and he warmed to the thought that Woo was just as kind as her.

It was nice.

She was nice.

He thought of this as he watched Wooyoung dance on a table while pouring gummies down his body- San's  _gummies_ Seonghwa promised to save.

Nice.

Wooyoung’s hip did a seductive swirl and he slut dropped to the top of the table, his knees wobbling dangerously. San had a mini heart attack watching him as everyone cheered and the gummies spilled to the floor from the rocky ass table.

“That’s your boyfriend?” Yunho (Hongjoong’s college friend) asked from beside San. San was sat atop the kitchen counter, his legs dangling over the edge, bumping into the time stained cabinets beneath the cracked top. Yunho, on the other hand, had his elbow propped on the counter, sipping his juice that was alcohol free.

“Yeah. He is.” San said as they watched Wooyoung try to take his shirt off. Yeosang tried to help him pull the garment off so now Hongjoong and Seonghwa were trying to pull a very drunk Yeosang from the top of the table.

San really liked Yunho so far- he was all height and had legs that never seemed to end, and he had this really bright smile that reminded him of Mingi’s. The two seemed to be a pair of suns that never had a cloud cover their rays. 

San didn’t really see how Yunho and Hongjoong were friends- not that there was anything wrong with him- nothing at all, in fact. It’s just that Yunho was reserved, didn’t drink, and he was a lot like San in a way. Maybe others wondered the same thing.

San started again, “Yeah- Wooyoung is quite an...out there person. He has a lot of energy.”

“And you don’t?” Yunho questioned, eye brow raising.

“No- I- kinda. Some days I do, some days I don’t. Do you ever feel like that?”

“Yeah. A lot. It’s nice to have someone with a different type of energy in your life, they kind of balance people like us out. Yin Yang kind of stuff, complementary forces and what-not, that kind of connection.”

For a minute, Yunho looked embarrassed for his thoughts.

“No, I get it. I never thought of it like that. It is kind of a balance for us, I like to consider myself bubbly but some days I don’t think I can even the muster to laugh with my whole. It’s not that I am sad that day- I just can’t seem to pull up that energy.”

Yunho nodded his head and sipped on his juice along with San, “I get it. I honestly get it. I appreciate my friends so much more when they can keep that up all the time, it’s honestly beautiful. It would be beautiful to be the human form of the sun.”

San was a bit shocked at Yunho’s words, because to San, he compared him to the sun, much like his roommate Mingi. San smiled, “It’s really funny you think that. I kind of compared you to the sun in my head, it is weird how you see yourself differently. You remind me of my friend back at college.”

Yunho’s eyebrows raised, “You thought I was sunny?”

“Really sunny. When I walked in you were dancing with your arms up in the air and you seemed really easy going, I dunno, it’s admirable.”

Yunho once more seemed embarrassed, “Thanks. I never really thought of myself like that. I always thought I looked like I had something up my ass.”

“Speaking of ass,” San interjected, adjusting his body on the counter to get into a more comfortable position, “You should meet my friend Mingi. He’s like- thick.”

Yunho spluttered on his juice, his elbow slipping. “Oh, I-”

San was horrified, on the realization, “Wait, are you not gay or something? Oh my god I am an asshole I just assumed since you hung out with all of us that you were and-”

“No- I am.” Yunho’s face was burning, “I am not used to everyone being so accepting, It is weird to have support like that.”

“Oh.”

They were quiet for a minute as Taylor Swift blasted from the speakers.

“So how thick are we talking?” Yunho asked.

Wooyoung about that time, stumbled in, slipping easily between San’s parted legs on the counter, and held his face close to San’s.

“Hello.”

“Hello.” San replied, face flushed.

Wooyoung turned to Yunho and stuck out a hand, “Hi, I am Wooyoung. San’s love.”

Yunho couldn’t help but laugh as San flushed even more and he stuck his delicate hand in Woo’s. “I see that.”

“I am also tipsy.”

“I see that also.”

Wooyoung pecked San’s nose, his breath smelling like assorted artificially flavored gummies. Tropical Kick, to be exact. 

“Were you guys talking about Mingi, I heard?”

“Yeah, we are talking about how thick he is.”

Wooyoung nodded enthusiastically Yunho’s way, “He has got an ass.” Wooyoung gasped, his eyes lighting up, “They should meet!”

“That’s what I said.” They both turned to look at Yunho. San spoke, wrapping an arm around Wooyoung’s shoulders, “He has this really pretty smile, he is really tall like you, and he likes anime.”

“San don’t say that, we don’t Yunho thinking he’s,” Wooyoung leaned in close, in a theatrical whisper, “ _a_ _weeb_.” 

Yunho spluttered, “I love anime.”

“Perfect.”

San looked back at Wooyoung’s eyeliner rimmed eyes, the shadows smoked out sexily, “See, perfect.”

Wooyoung smirked back at him, “Weebs. They’re horrible.”

San giggled, “Right, I would never let you date one. They are atrocious.”

Wooyoung leaned in slowly, his voice lowering to a whisper, “Yeah, they make me sick. All that nerd talk and stuff, it doesn’t totally turn me on.” 

San matched him, leaning in, their lips grazing, “It would be a shame.”

Yeosang’s scream startled them out of their moment, “Guys don’t fucking run Yunho off!”

Oh, yeah, they had an audience.

Yunho, looked absolutely traumatized at their suggestive weeb-loving-nerd talk.

At least Mingi and Yunho had something to talk about now.

Wooyoung saluted San and twirled back into the living area where the lively music was pouring through.

Annoying.

San classified himself as an observant person.

He often kept a mental note of his surrounding area, he liked to scan the perimeter of things, and he also caught onto things about individuals that no one really seemed to quite catch.

Like the fact that Yeosang and Hongjoong were totally in love.

San had noticed in the way they were young and Yeosang and Hongjoong would whisper of twilight underneath their blankets that were covered in race cars, race cars that zoomed off the blanket and into the waiting sky.

San had noticed in the way they were in middle school and Hongjoong and Yeosang linked pinkies on the playground. They always seemed lost in their own little atmosphere, ready for blast off. Yeosang would smile at Hongjoong when he would raise his hand smartly in class, earning him a golden star from the teacher. Hongjoong would smile at Yeosang when he would get compliments in choir, resulting in a big golden star pinned to his shirt too. They would shine brightly with their star rays winking at the blue sky.

San never really understood what was different until they went into Junior High and when San had noticed about himself that he liked boys. And that when he liked girls too. 

When Yeosang came to San with tears in his eyes, a gold star on his shirt, but a star missing from his side. “I think I like boys.”

When Hongjoong told San during library hours, “I like boys.”

It  _clicked_.

San didn’t miss the way Yeosang and Hongjoong would lock eyes during class, the air was different. He knew something had changed, but he didn’t know  _how_. 

During High School the two were inseparable (of course San was always with them) and everyone knew the trio were best friends. But, San, knew that Yeosang and Hongjoong had something special, something different in their dynamic, and San never knew if anything were done about it. 

And no one else had noticed or said anything about it, so San felt alone in his theory about the two. Maybe they were just really good friends.

Right.

San never missed the way Hongjoong would stare a little bit too long at Yeosang, and the way Sang’s eyes would intensely follow everything Hongjoong did sometimes, their eyes both shining with that golden star that wasn’t too long ago pinned to their crinkled shirt.

San especially saw it this summer. Both Hongjoong and Yeosang went to separate universities, and both never really came down home either. But this summer was three months long, and who knew what would change? 

San felt the summer in his bones, and he had grown to dread it.

Dread summer? Who does that?

He never knew what to expect because that meant he had to be home a lot, and that meant more time with his miserable mother. He didn’t have the peace of University, and the comfort of knowing that he wouldn’t have to look in his mom’s druggie eyes. It was summer and he knew that he couldn’t avoid her. He may have been nineteen, but he also had responsibilities.

It was only one week into summer and San had yet to go home.

He didn’t think he could.

Besides, Wooyoung had his own apartment for the summer, and he had asked San to stay with him.

Wooyoung was actually a really responsible person and he had saved up enough to get a cute apartment just within the city limits, and he worked hard for things he wanted to have. If something was in Wooyoung’s vision, he was going to get what he wanted.

Staying with Wooyoung was something San loved to do. 

It made him feel all of these fuzzy warm feelings, and he felt oddly at home when he would plop down on Wooyoung’s bed. When he would shower there. When Wooyoung would fuck him here, there, and everywhere. You know, the usual domestic things. 

This summer was for opportunities and San had felt really grown saying that he was casually staying with his  _boyfriend_  in his  _apartment._  Things were looking up for him.

When all someone has ever known is the loss of hope, the danger of letting happiness and things that were too good to be true into their life...well, it always felt like it was going to be ripped right from your hands that should have been closed into tight fists.

You never let hope consume you, because all it ever was going to do was spit you out and call you pathetic.

Never hope.

There was never the phrase “There is always hope” allowed in San’s mind, because he knew it was unrealistic. People who hoped always had their dreams crushed. Their simple joys gone. You had to be realistic in life.

Wooyoung was dangerous in the sense that he brought hope into his life, and San would find himself  _hoping_  that things would get better, and he would see hope in Wooyoung’s eyes when something went wrong. Wooyoung never let it get him down. 

San tried to be like that- but he was lacking. 

If that made any sense. 

Nothing ever really did for San.

“San, where do you want to eat?”

San’s attention turned away from the car window and he looked over to Yeosang, his dark hair flopping gracefully in the wind.

“Anywhere is fine.”

San felt Hongjoong lean forward from the back and his arms rested on the back of their seats, “Beef.”

Yeosang raised an eyebrow, a smile gracing his lips. Hongjoong smiled back at him, only him, but it was so brief that San wondered if he imagined it. 

Wooyoung and Seonghwa were squished in the back on opposte sides of Joong.

“Or,” Interrupted Seonghwa, who pushed Hongjoong back into the seat and leaned forward to the middle, “We can go to the beach and just eat when we get there.”

“I am hungry  _now_.” whined Wooyoung.

Several voices filled the car, as they all yelled at Wooyoung.

“We told you it would three hours before we got-”

“Wooyoung we told you to snack beforehand-”

“You’re fucking kidding me, right? You’re testing me on pur-”

San could only laugh as he tilted his head back to his shoulder, his hand drawing and dropping looping swirls in the open window, his fingers touching the wind. The sun was shining bright, and the radio was loud. It was one of those moments where San felt really, really, really, nice and he felt like he was smack dab in the middle of a summer beach movie.

San’s eyes met Wooyoung’s in the side car mirror, and Wooyoung dropped a wink in the midst of all the chaos. Yeah, it was a really, really, really, nice day.

“I can’t believe Jongho invited us here,” Yeosang commented, turning down the radio.

“He said that if he didn’t get to meet San in the next two days that he was going to take our booze supply.”

San laughed, turning back to Hongjoong, “Isn’t that a good thing? I think I’m starting to see a beer gut hyung.” San emphasized his point by using his right arm to reach around the seat and poke the air around his belly.

Hongjoong lunged forward and wrestled San, who was now screeching.

“You’re such a brat!”

Jongho turned out to be a cool guy. San didn’t know what he was expecting, he had been to one of Jongho’s parties before on the very first day of summer, but he had never seen the elusive figure. 

Jongho fit in well with everyone, and San couldn’t help but smile. He was energetic, always flailing his arms when he talked, and he was charming with his words. He was the kind of boy that you saw in movies, Jongho was unique in his own way.

Jongho was a cool guy, but San thought he wouldn’t be so cool if he found out that San was sucking Wooyoung’s dick on his property.

Or Yeosang wouldn’t be so cool if he found out that it was in Yeosang’s car.

Wooyoung’s fingers gripped without mercy in San’s black hair, but he liked it like that.

San’s moans were muffled by Wooyoung’s dick as he palmed himself through his shorts, gasping at the sensitivity.

“My baby is so sensitive.” Wooyoung cooed from above him, his fingers dancing on San’s jaw, skimming down his neck, and then all the way back up to his mouth. His finger slid in with San’s mouth as he pushed himself further down Wooyoung.

San moaned even more at Wooyoung’s words, spit dripping down his chin. He pulled back up, wiping his mouth on his hand. 

“You good baby?”

San hummed, pushing his hair back with his hands, and he repositioned himself so he could get a better grip on Wooyoung’s cock.

“Never been better.”

He slid back down, and Wooyoung’s hips stuttered and he groaned, “Jesus San you have to give me some kind of warning.”

San shrugged, still continuing to work at Wooyoung with enthusiasm. 

Wooyoung’s hips may have been harsh when rolling up and hitting the back of San’s throat, but his touch was the opposite.

His hands were gentle, always touching San to reassure him, even when he was fucking San deep into a counter or couch. 

This time, his warm hands were sliding up and down San’s arms, occasionally squeezing. 

“You look pretty like this.”

San slid off sensually, taking his time in letting his lips softly suck suction up the length, Wooyoung’s eyes were on him the entire time. The tip eventually reached San’s lips and he kitten licked playfully, licking and kissing softly on the head, and San could feel the warmth of Wooyoung’s precum dripping consistently from the top.

“Oh wow, oh wow, oh wow-”

San smiled from below, “Aren’t I pretty always?”

Wooyoung laughed, his eyes narrowing in on San and he leaned forward to catch San’s bottom lip in between his teeth.

“I suppose.”

“You suppose?”

Wooyoung leaned back, his grip tightening on San’s hair.

“More like,” his finger twirled in the hot car, as if he was swirling his thoughts and looking for the right word, “Beautiful, always.”

“Ew, gross, don’t be sweet when I am sucking your dick.”

“Isn’t that what people do when they’re enamored by each other?”

San rolled his eyes, but his stomach flipped, he thought Wooyoung was going to say  _love._  He breathed a sigh of relief intenerally.

“Can I just get you off?”

“Romance is dead.” 

San’s hand came to Woo’s length, slipping over the slippery head, dragging his precum down the length, drawing a hiss from Wooyoung.

“I’m really close.”

This only encouaraged San to speed up his movements and he quickly slid his mouth back down an unexpecting Wooyoung.

San felt his cheekbones hollow, and Wooyoung made these high whines that always signaled that he was too close to coming. It was music to San’s ears. 

San snaked a hand up Wooyoung’s shirt, twisting his nipple. This made Wooyoung keen and he gasped, putting his hand over San’s. Their fingers intertwined, and San dragged Wooyoung’s hand down with his own, pressing it to his balls, and a harsh suck.

Wooyoug came, his body writing, and his hand squeezing tight. 

“Fuck, you’re so good to me San.”

His stomach was still fluttering wildly, and his thighs were tensing with the after-shocks of his orgasm.

San looked to see Woo flipping his hair with his hand, and his head tilted back on the seat. Wooyoung looked back down at San and pulled him to his lap, his arm enclosing around his waist. 

He looked down at San’s obvious erection though his shorts, “Need help?” he asked teasingly, pulling San in for a soft and slow kiss. Clearly, putting San on edge. Wooyoung’s other hand slid down his shorts and tugged on San’s cock, making him gasp into his mouth, and his hips push forward. “That’s right, baby,” Wooyoung whispered, kissing ever so slowly up his neck, pausing to bite gently into the sensitive skin.

“Pleasepleaseplease-”

Wooyoung’s hand sped up and his wrist twisted in all the right spots, the filthy sounds of skin against the slickness of San’s dick filling the car-he had come to know San’s body wonderfully, they were both familiar and in tune.

“Close?”

“Really close,” San whimpered, digging his nails into Woo’s shoulder. He could feel Wooyoung smile against his neck and he sped up the pace to an alarmingly quick one, and he skillfully sucked on San’s tongue, causing the final straw in San to snap.

Warm come coated both of their hands, as San gasped for air into Wooyoung’s shoulder. His body was shaking, and his thighs were tightly enclosed around Wooyoung’s own.

“You must have been on edge for a while now,” Wooyoung mused, using a dirty beach towel to wipe their hands. He kissed San’s finger tips and smiled.

“I was sucking your dick for like twenty minutes of course I was about to come any second,” San replied rolling off. Wooyoung mused San’s hair and leaned forward to kiss him, his black t-shirt hanging low, revealing his collarbones. 

“Interesting.”

Wooyoung’s phone chimed, Yeosang’s name popped up on the top of the screen.

_Yeosangie_ _:_ _Yo_ _where the fuck are you guys_

San’s eyes widened, “Don’t you dare tell him.” Wooyoung laughed and shook his head, “I didn’t plan on it.”

_Woostinky_ _: Taking a walk on the beach. It is romantic._

_Yeosangie_ _: More like fucking. But we are wanting to go paddleboard soon so you guys should join us_

San sighed, airing out his shirt, sticky with sweat, but he didn’t miss how even though he and Wooyoung just got off, Woo’s eyes still followed the movement, eyes tracing his neck and shoulders, down to his waist and legs. 

“You’re hot.”

“Thanks for just now noticing,” San chirped back, his legs dangling over Wooyoung’s glorious thighs.

He rolled his eyes, but then turned serious, “I have thought that since our sophomore year of High School.”

San’s stomach flipped, his butterflies sceaming, “Oh?”  _Wooyoung_  his crush thoughout high school,  _had thought he was hot too_?

“I didn’t even know you knew I existed.” San replied, laying his head down on the top of the seat.

“Hongjoong, you, and Yeosang were always together, it was hard not to notice you. Joong and Sang are pretty loud people, so eyes were always on them. And you.”

“Huh,” San replied lamely, “I always thought you were hot too but I never dreamed of even talking to you because I kind of felt like you and Joong and Sang had your own little thing that I didn’t want to ruin.”

“Nah, I begged them all the time to get them to set me up with you. The day I saw you at Hongjoong’s sealed the deal for me so”

_If something was in_ _Wooyoung’s_ _vision, he was going to get what he wanted._

“Huh,” was all San could reply again. “Wait, you never dated anyone in High School so why-”

Wooyoung laughed, “I wasn’t asking them to set us up so we could date San.”

“ _Oh.”_

Wooyoung giggled, bringing San close to him, “But, change of plans.”

San smiled but rolled his eyes. “Romantic.”

“Always.”

“I have so much sand up my ass.” Seonghwa complained at the car, shaking the water out of his hair. Yeosang flinched from the explosives of droplets and batted him from his personal space, “Gross.”

Hongjoong had the doors of the car opened, and he leaned out, cheekily replying, “I can get that for you Hwa.”

A wet towel was tossed at his head. San only shook his head as he changed into a dry shirt of Jongho’s (who was kind enough to let him borrow it, as San forgot his, and Jongho had only replied that it would give him an excuse to see San again.)

Yeosang reached in the back seat, pulling out a familiar beach towel.

San’s eyes widened with horror, “Yeosang-”

“Yeosang don’t use the-”

Yeosang paused with the towel in his hand, “And why?”

They were both silent, the sounds of seagulls squawking in sky echoed, and the sounds of the massive waves reached swirled around the silence. 

“There could  _possibly_  be come on it.”


	5. So tie up your bow, take off your coat, and take a look around

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> San discovers that flowers begin to bloom

Summer was for opportunities.

Opportunities to relax, to drink away the night with friends, to go clubbing, to have your youth spent on 2am ramblings with the stars as the audience- and it was also for endless opportunities to makeout with your boyfriend on the kitchen counter.

Currently it was 4pm and the sun was setting, casting a golden glow over Wooyoung’s shiny black hair. And currently, San has his hands wrapped tightly in his boyfriend’s hair, tugging on the roots with every trace of Wooyoung’s tongue on his lips.

Summer was for opportunities.

Mingi would have told San that the summer was meant for studying, but Mingi was a Med Student so that seemed pretty fair of him to say.

Wooyoung’s lips wetly separated from San’s with a quiet smack, his bottom lip swollen from San’s eager teeth. 

“What are you thinking about right now?”

San smiled, “I would say you, but that is a lie. I am thinking about college.”

Wooyoung wrapped his large hands around the bottom of his legs and he gently removed San from the counter, cooing. He turned back to check on the cookies that were baking in the oven.

“And what about it?”

 “I am also thinking about Mingi.”

“Should I be worried?”

San rolled his eyes, slipping into the chair by the kitchen table. “No. I just think Mingi needs a break, Wooyoung, he is spending his summer  _studying,”_

Wooyoung grimaced, and then cringed, “Doesn’t he have friends to hang out with?”

San tried to recall Mingi ever talking about his friends back home, but nothing came to mind. If San was being honest- it kind of shocked him. Mingi was always so caring, loud, gentle, and always knew what to say. It sounded cliché but Mingi was a walking rose that blossomed to anyone and everyone. All it took was some watering and care.

That’s the thing about happy people though. They may be the most beautiful flowers you know, they may blossom so beautifully, their petals vibrant and flourishing wide open for the sun to bless with the rays of golden- but they are sucking up so much nutrients to thrive that they need someone to give them an extra drop of water at times. They can only bloom and thrive for so long without care. The most beautiful flowers in the garden are the ones that are picked first, so therefore they are the first to die. 

San didn’t like roses so much anymore.

“I suppose he has friends.”

“You suppose?”

“He never mentioned them really.”

Wooyoung turned to look at San, his attention off the slowly melting chocolate chips.

“You said he was always studying or doing something.”

“Yeah, but it was always in the dorm. He never really  _left_ , even on holidays. He just said it wasn’t worth going home.”

“I don’t think he had anyone worth going home to.” Wooyoung finished, biting his bottom lip.

San had to think about that, and he had to think about that  _hard._  He may have never really had a true home to call his own, but at least he had people there for him. People that cared. San didn’t know what he would do if he didn’t have people that didn’t give a fuck about him. San couldn’t imagine being  _lonely_.

His love for Wooyoung only grew much more in that moment.

“You’re looking at me weird.”

San only smiled, “I just really appreciate you.”

“That is the gayest thing you have said to me, and that’s a lot considering you’re you.”

“You are going to fuck Yunho,” San said confidently, pressing the phone’s option to speaker.

“Yun _who_ _-?”_  Mingi spluttered from the other side, air getting caught in his throat- he choked on the end of the line.

“Yunho. Tall, dark, handsome, thick.”

“San-”

“Listen. He is cute. He is smart. He is a biology major, and he is full of life. Fucking date him.”

“Sa-”

“No. You need to get out more Mingi, I feel like you’re stuck inside reading about the stupid human body and-”

“ _San.”_

 _“_ Yes?”

“I don’t want a boyfriend.”

“Poppycock.”

“.........”

San huffed, flopping down next to Yeosang who was vigorously playing Mario Cart beside him. His tongue was stuck out comically, hanging loosely from his lips, and he was leaning forward consumed by the T.V. Hongjoong, was beside Yeosang yelling encouragement as he slid into 3rd place.

San continued, “Yunho is great, I promise, he is very Mingi. Lots of Mingi-ness.” Hongjoong scoffed on the other side of Yeosang, “Mingi, I have yet to meet you, and I am telling you that Yunho is Mingi-ness.”

San heard Mingi sigh on the end of the line, and the sound of shuffling could be heard, and then a slam of a car door. “Listen, I really do not want to have this conversation in Walgreens.”

“Mingi,” San whined. “Just come down for a couple of days. You can stay with Wooyoung, he thinks you’re great and he offered. Hang out with my friends and I, I miss you.”

Yeosang cooed, “Cute.”

San wasn’t lying, he really did miss Mingi. If Mingi was a rose, he was the soil that helped the flower grow.

Mingi was honestly the best roommate that he could ask for. 

“I am not coming down just to get some Yunwho dick.”

“Yunho, and it will be worth it. You get to meet all of my friends.”

“Last time I was to ‘meet’ your boyfriend I was greeted with the sight of you getting your ass-”

“Okay! That’s enough! See you later today!”

San ended the call with a click. 

Yeosang paused the game to look at San, Hongjoong peeking out behind Yeosang’s shoulder.

“Did Mingi just say that he caught Wooyoung ea-”

“No.”

It was silent for a moment, and then Hongjoong threw himself back on the cushions, breaking out into hysterics.

“ _Oh my god.”_

San threw himself over Yeosang to clamp a hand down on Joong’s loud mouth, desperately trying to shush the rocket of a person. “Hongjoong-hongjoong-hong-”

Yeosang pulled them apart, Hongjoong still wheezing from the other side. “He won’t say anything San, don’t worry.”

San threw himself back on the cushions curling up into a ball, “This is humiliating.”

Hongjoong once more peeked from behind Sang’s shoulder, under his protection. “This is the best thing I have heard since the come towel incident.”

“Stop.”

Hongjoong only smiled.

San wasn’t a big fan of ice cream, but after dating Wooyoung, he had gotten used to the taste of the too sweet cream.

They sat at  _Moomers_ , tucked into their favorite spot against a wide open glass window. The heat of the summer rolled in lazily, melting the ice cream in their plastic cups, and melting San’s skin off his body.

“Why does it have to be so fucking hot,” he groaned with a mouthful of chocolate ice cream.

Wooyoung arched an eyebrow, “It is summer San.”

“Yeah, but does it have to be so hot that I feel my insides cooking.”

Wooyoung grinned, pushing forward his cup towards San, “This might help.”

“I am sick of ice cr-”

“Do not finish that sentence if you want to keep our relationship.”

“You’re annoying,” San replied, tossing his napkin that he used for sweat at Wooyoung. He batted it away, a small smile growing on his face. 

“So, tell me,” Wooyoung started, leaning dangerously forward on his elbows entering in San’s space. 

“Have you decided what you’re going to major in?”

San froze.

“Um, hypothetically, if I told you that I had no fucking clue,” He said, a flush rising up his chest and onto his cheeks at the view down Wooyoung’s low hanging black t-shirt.

“Stop eyeing my chest. And also, that is perfectly okay.” Woo said leaning back onto his pastel colored stool. “You still have a while to think about it, I just wanted an update.”

San sighed, swirling his spoon around the now completely liquid ice cream. “It’s like I want to do a thousand different things- but I never know what exactly to pinpoint on.”

“So the answer is still, anything?”

“Yes, the answer is still anything.”

Wooyoung hummed and took a long drink of his water. San’s eyes lazily followed the way his throat bobbed and the way that his shoulders flexed with the tilting motion.

“Building onto that,” San said, “You’re still continuing for dance and music right?”

“Always.”

San smiled fondly and reached forward to boop Wooyoung’s nose, but his hand caught San’s, “Have you considered music?”

Wooyoung squeezed his hand gently.

“No,” San admitted. “I don’t think I will be any good at it, nothing like Hongjoong is anyways.”

Wooyoung rolled his eyes, “Have a little more faith in yourself.”

Faith. Huh.

“Mmm.”

Wooyoung let San’s hand slip gently out of his and he gathered their trash to toss out.

“Well, whatever you do will be great. Whether it is blowing up a science lab, dancing, a florist, making music, you will be on top of it all.”

“A florist?”

“You know, the people who arrange, cut and sell flowers. It is very soft and San like. San-ness.”

“I know what a florist is, I just never really thought about it.”

Wooyoung tossed the trash in the bin and turned back to San with confusion written across his features.

“Really?”

Wooyoung hummed, “You have always had an obsession with flowers- or I guess a certain liking towards them. You read all of those plant books, your phone case is literally a giant ass flower-” San looked down at his patterned Mugunghwa case, “and you have a giant flower pillow.”

San paused.

“I never really noticed.”

“I remember in high school you would draw little flowers on your white shoes.”

“You noticed?”

“Mmm, they were cute. I always notice you San.”

He felt himself flush the color of soft pink petals, and he cleared his throat. “Gross. But anyways. Yeah, I have always liked them, but never really considered a career out of it I guess.”

“It is always an option.”

“I suppose.”

Wooyoung leaned forward excitedly, his jeans hugging his thighs tightly, “Imagine my boyfriend florist who brings me flowers after my dance.”

San pretended to gag.

If the summer was meant for opportunities, it was San’s opportunity to admit how hard he fell for his Wooyoung.

Wooyoung, who he was painfully in love with.

If he could only use one word to describe him, it would be: shining.

A shining moon, the only moon that stands on a planet. The surface silver and dusky, smooth like his hair and skin. A shining life form of laughter, confidence, doe eyes, and a wicked mouth. He was everything and anything he wanted to be, Wooyoung was a fearless, fiery, collapsing star that held the world in its photosphere. Everyone knows someone that they envy for their passion, their easiness to the world’s weight. They take everything with a flowing grace, a tuck and roll evading problems. It was like the world was for some people, and it was for making some people suffer. Those who have it with grace, live beautifully and full. Those who suffer can only try to live with the same kind of poise, but they fail, and they stumble back down the black hole.

It was hard to accept that some people just had it easy. 

Maybe that was just how it was supposed to be. Those pushing the rock up the hill, and those who sit on the rock who get to view the summit. If those who sit on the rock ever so slightly reach their hands towards the sky, their fingertips grazing the stratosphere, they would get to touch the moon. Though, if those who are pushing the rock reach up, the stone would rip the apogee and pull the waiting stars just out of their grasp.

Wooyoung was the summit and San was the bottom.

Wooyoung would glow and everything would be easy. So, so, so easy. 

San wondered what it was like to feel on top of the world.

Wooyoung looked like he was on top of the world with his hands raised high reaching the ceiling, and Mingi beside him, stoned, looked like he was on top of the world with his fingertips actually touching the surface of the roof. 

Yunho hummed from beside San, “You were so right, he is hot.”

San watched Mingi do a clumsy hip thrust, almost wobbling off the “sturdy” couch cushion that he and Woo were standing on. 

“ _Really_?”

A wild Hongjoong spun into their frame, “Soooo Yunho, what do you think?”

“He is cute.”

“Cute. Just cute?”

“Indeed,” Yunho sipped from one of Joong’s stupid juice boxes and raised an eyebrow. Hongjoong shrugged and went to roll another blunt, and probably just to go talk to a Yeosang who was sat on the other couch with bong in his lap.

San and Yunho watched Mingi and Wooyoung take a wobbly selfie from above, San and Yunho also visible in the screen.

“I can’t believe our first picture together is going to involve weed in the background.”

San hummed, “I think it is romantic. Seonghwa would agree.”

“Where is he?”

“At his girlfriend’s house or something.”

“He has a girlfriend?”

Yeosang chimed in from the other side, “Shocking, I know. He met her through Jongho or something like that.” Yeosang’s finger twirled an imaginary swirl in the air, emphasizing ‘something.’ Hongjoong’s gaze followed the loop of Yeosang’s character he had drawn, his head going in circles. 

“Has Hwa ever dated anyone?” inquired a Wooyoung, high up in the air, and also high off his ass.

“He dated Yeosang.”

Yunho choked on his juice, sending fruit punch down his shirt.

“Sophmore year, and it lasted like two weeks. He told me that he was too busy for a relationship.”

Laughter filled the air, “Right,” Wooyoung giggled smacking the ceiling with his hand and jumping off the cushion gracefully. “He is just a bad boyfriend. I doubt he remembers it.”

Yeosang had a smile on his face, “We kissed like twice and it was really awkward.”

Hongjoong, looked shocked at this information, “You kissed Seonghwa and you didn’t tell us this very important blackmail material?”

San interjected, “He definitely blackmails Hwa with it all the time.”

“Evil.” Wooyoung said with a ghost of a smirk curving at his lips. 

San turned to Wooyoung, his arms crossed over his middle, “Did you know that Seonghwa had a girlfriend?”

“Yeah, I thought it was pretty obvious.”

They all spluttered, Yunho in a state of wonder, chimed, “Did anyone not think to talk about this?”

San couldn’t help but smile fondly at the scene unfolding in front of him.

“Doesn’t matter,” said Wooyoung with a wave of his hand dramatically. “What matters is that tomorrow we are going roller skating at the rink for the 80’s theme night.”

“ _Why doesn’t anyone tell me anything_ ,” complained Yunho. Wooyoung ignored him and downed a stupid juice box in one squeeze and he tossed it on the table. 

“We are welcoming Mingi to our town with our favorite thing to do, besides partying. I want makeup, neon clothes, ridiculous shorts. The whole thing.”

“Can’t I just wear a crop top and call it a day?” Mingi asked, slight fear in his eyes. 

“That is my job.”

“I say we let Mingi wear a crop top too.” Yunho said.

All eyes turned to him.

“It’s for science.”

“Right.” Yeosang said slowly, a smile beginning to bloom on his face.

Sometimes he liked to be the outside viewer, looking through the looking glass, getting to observe. In many ways, San took a page out of Wooyoung’s book and wanted to learn how to  _understand_. 

There were many things he saw in front of him, through the tiny viewing lense of his mind, and he saw gold. San knew that he tended to compare things to colors and space, but that is how he liked to see the world. Well, that is how he  _did_  see the world. Everything was bright, overwhelming at times, and foreign unidentified flying objects. At times San felt like he was in other worlds. He would space out and see the whole picture.

His friends were golden, bright, and beautiful. San wondered how such genuine humans existed in a world so cruel, he wondered how such humans always had hope. This hope that kept them driving and moving forward. A golden flicker of a flame being blown out on a birthday cake, a golden light washing over them as they stayed up all night until dawn brought her rays to wash over them. Golden would shine in their eyes when they would laugh, their golden hands clapping together. 

_“I felt the warmth that flowers must feel when they bloom through the snow, under the first concentrated rays of the sun.”_

Golden.

A golden hope that kept them running, seeing the best in times and situations they couldn’t change- hope.

Hope.

Was it a tangible thing?

Right now, he could see the way Mingi and Yunho’s eyes would flicker between each other, just missing the meeting gaze, they were in their own orbit creating a new world. Soon, they would collide and create their own planet. San didn’t miss the way Yunho’s cheeks would catch pink undertones under the shitty light when Mingi would stretch his long arms up. San didn’t miss the way Mingi’s eyes would linger on Yunho when he would talk animatedly, his eyes bright and creating stars for their new world. 

San could see the way Hongjoong was a bit off tonight, his movements hesitating, his usual fearlessness lacking, his confidence pulling in and out like a tide. He was shifty, calculating something, his eyes worried.

Yeosang was high, but that wasn’t why he was also off too. He almost looked like he was deep in thought tonight too, debating something heavy in his hands.

Hongjoong and Yeosang would cross paths, their thorns wouldn’t catch, they would just breeze by. As if they were not existing, as if each other were not  _there_.

And then there was Wooyoung.

Even if Wooyoung was surrounded by thousands of people, he somehow always made it a point to look at San. Sometimes, San wouldn’t even notice that Wooyoung was looking at him- until he would feel a pair of eyes on him and he would be met with intensity. San liked to think he always knew what was going on inside his mind, but that would be a lie. Times like this- he never really knew what he was thinking in that exact moment. Wooyoung could be unpredictable, but in the best way possible.

San was selfish, and he liked having his own little world with Woo, their own little connection. They both knew that something great, something bigger than they could imagine was living in their chests, blossoming, a plethora of crimson budding. The flowers mouth opening wider, and wider, and wider, with crystal snow gracing the petals. 

Fragile, real, and love. If you were to lightly connect flesh with snowflakes, it would crumble and melt into tears on top of the surface of your skin. A new crystal would come, but it would not be the same. 

The flowers in San’s lungs were beginning to die, but fear not, they were blooming beautifully on his skin. 

_“I felt the warmth that flowers must feel when they bloom through the snow, under the first concentrated rays of the sun.”_

He was catching his breath.

 


	6. Cause the sky has finally opened

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> San thinks that the sky likes to rain on those who do not deserve it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This first part of the chapter is rather explicit (okay, super explicit) and if you are uncomfortable with that, then stop reading at, "Wooyoung gave him his trademark grin, “You don’t have to worry about that,” and then the safe section should start with “Was it lets-all-wear-casual-clothes-and-not-tell-Hongjoong-and-Yeosang day today?”

San remembers his mother’s favorite shirt. 

He remembers her wearing it almost every other day, partially because she didn’t own much clothing, but also because she said the shirt held the most beautiful woman in the world on the front. The shirt was all white, but it held the outline and shapes of Marilyn Monroe’s face painted in swishes of rosy hues and deep black. The outline of her smoldering eyes always made San stare with wonder, and her beauty mark was prominent against the white canvas. 

When San’s mom wasn’t as sick back then, she would let San poke the beauty mark and she would giggle and say that Marilyn was glad that someone appreciated her sexy beauty. 

San remembers the day his mother’s favorite shirt was ruined. 

He had sat in the back of the car, his dad’s voice booming. He doesn’t remember much of his dad, he only remembers the way he would yell and stumble down the dark halls of their house. He would stumble like a great giant, knocking into picture frames, shattering the glass and the silence of the house. San remembers tv static, blank eyes, and his mother’s tears as she held onto her broken knick-knacks that he had shoved off the shelves. 

His mother and father had been arguing about something- he couldn’t quite remember, but what he does remember is his father’s long rooted arms reaching across and smashing his mother’s face with his great strength. 

His mother’s tree-toppling cries as blood dripped down her trunk and onto the soil of her shirt like sad grey rain. 

Marilyn Monroe’s beauty mark wasn’t visible anymore, it was just crimson and dark. 

This crosses San’s mind as he blankly stares into the mirror, red liquid dripping out of his nose. The steam of Wooyoung’s shower is fogging up the glass, and he quickly wipes the fog off with his sleeve. 

“San?” He hears Wooyoung call from under the steam, his voice echoing off the shower walls. San thinks it sounds hollow and melodic. 

“Yeah, sorry, I had a nose bleed." 

“No, it is fine, I didn’t hear the door open.” 

“Good thing I am not some mass murderer,” San joked as he ran the sink water over a small towel. He dabbed it to his nose, watching the blue material soak it up and the color of scarlet spread on the surface. 

"Stop,” Wooyoung whined from the shower. San heard the sliding of the metal rings on the bar of the shower curtain, and he saw a certain face peek out from the side. Wooyoung looked good like this. 

His dark hair was pushed back, revealing his forehead, and water rivulets danced down his skin. 

San only smiled. 

Wooyoung beckoned him forward with his finger, and San obediently walked forward to meet him. Their eyes met for a moment and Wooyoung gave him a soft smile. "Let me see your nose, idiot." 

Wooyoung’s free hand removed the towel, his wet hand over San’s dry one. He tutted and dabbed his nose for him with the towel. San was silent as Wooyoung worked, but Wooyoung looked like he was about to say something. San gave it three seconds before Wooyoung spoke. 

_One_

_Two_

_Three_

Four

__

"What is on your mind?” 

__

Oh, that. 

__

“Do you really wanna know?”

__

Wooyoung shot him a smile, a drop of water rolled off his chin and onto his neck with the movement of his mouth. 

__

“My mom had this Marilyn Monroe shirt. It was her favorite.” 

__

Wooyoung hummed, “That’s nice.” He tossed the towel to the sink, landing in the basin and he scanned San up and down. 

__

“She loved this shirt, right?” 

__

“Right.” 

__

Wooyoung nodded, pulling San forward, his chest hitting the shower curtains. "Join me?" Wooyoung asked from underneath the spray of the shower and his sweeping eyelashes. How could San ever tell a face that beautiful, no? 

__

San continued his story, allowing Wooyoung to pull his fully clothed body under the spray of the clear water. Wooyoung only nodded and listened as he pulled off San’s shirt that was sticking wetly to his body. San thought he looked beautiful like this. Well, Woo was always beautiful, but he was absolutely bewitching underneath the dim shower lights with his dark eyes for answer.

__

Wooyoung’s fingers danced through his hair, and San reveled in the warm water running over his skin and he let is soothe him as he continued. “I remember my dad had hit her and he fucking ruined her favorite shirt.” 

__

Wooyoung paused, his hands still wound in San’s hair. He seemed to think for a moment, but then he pulled San close under the spray and he wrapped his arms around him tightly. San felt secure, warm, and loved. He hugged Wooyoung tightly, letting the water run over them both, his soaked joggers the only think separating them from being fully one. 

__

“I was going to say sorry but then I realized that sorry never really helped anyone.”  Wooyoung  said in a whisper even though it was just the two of them in the entire apartment.

__

San couldn’t help but to smile softly into  Wooyoung’s  shoulder, “I don’t mind people saying sorry. I think they mean it, even if it doesn’t help anything  ya  know? At least they put effort into thinking about what to say, even if it isn’t the right thing. What is the right thing to say,  Wooyoung ? There isn’t. If anyone just listens, that is good enough for me.”

__

Woo pulled back, slicking back San’s hair with both of his hands, and he pecked San on the lips sweetly. “You said there isn’t an exact right thing to say to someone, but you just said the right thing.”

__

San felt his heart jump a little, and he shrugged.

__

“What happened to the shirt?” 

__

“I don’t know. I never saw her wear it again.”

__

It was silent except for the sound of the running water hitting the tiles on the floor and the sound of  Wooyoung  and San’s matched breathing. 

__

San was in love.

__

“It doesn’t matter now. I doubt she remembers it.”

__

Wooyoung  pursed his lips, and he shook his head. “Perhaps. Perhaps not.”

__

His fingertips trailed down San’s abdomen and he let his hands rest on the  string of the sweats , his eyes locking with San’s. It was his intense trademark look and San felt himself gulp with excitement and a bit of something else, a bit of love.

__

“You’re looking at me weird again.” said  Wooyoung  playfully kissing his shoulder open mouthed. The sound of his lips leaving his skin made San twitch.

__

“You’re looking at me weird,” San said lamely, casting his eyes down to avoid  Wooyoung’s  intense ones. Sometimes, with the way  Wooyoung  looked at him he couldn’t  maintain  eye contact because it felt so- so  _ strong. _  It was like he was trying to tell San  _ something _  but San couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Whatever he was trying to say was out of grasp, just barely missing the stars surface. 

__

“I don’t want people to pity me.” San said out of the blue, watching his boyfriend’s slim and nimble fingers loosen the knot with ease.

__

“I know, San.” He kissed gently on San’s collar bones, sliding his tongue over the dip and then pulled San even closer to him.

__

“I am glad you told me, you seem out of it sometimes and I want you to know that I understand you. You don’t have to talk about it, but you did, and I am thankful.”

__

San sighed into  Wooyoung’s  dripping kisses and he let the rose petals in his stomach swirl and the flowers bloom onto his skin. He felt himself become rooted.

__

“Can I be really honest with you?”

__

“Always, San.”

__

“Always?”

__

“Always.”

__

San couldn’t explain why he felt so honest, so  _ open _  at the moment, but  maybe it  had to do with the fact that  Wooyoung  was tugging down his pants and he was on his knees looking oh-so-pretty. Also, because San felt comfortable. The shower felt warm, safe, it held a beautiful  Wooyoung , and maybe- he was gaining his clipped wings back. 

__

They were folding and unfolding, stretching their weak limbs and gaining flight beneath the tips.

__

“I am afraid that people are going to think that I want them to feel bad for me. I am afraid people are going to think that I am  stating  all of these things for attention-for me to be the center of the room. It’s like I am screaming, ‘Hey, look at all of my issues, I bet no one can top how bad they are!’ like some fucking competition. When it is not like that at all. Not a little bit, not a smidge, not the clip of one damn balloon- not at all.”

__

Wooyoung  sighed, kissing his boyfriend’s stomach. San felt himself twitch.

__

“My  Sannie , anyone who knows you will know that you aren’t doing it for attention. We know. With a soul as beautiful as yours, who would think you are trying to project your emotional baggage and sadness onto them?”

__

San sighed, “I wish I could word this better. I wish you understood.”

__

Wooyoung  stopped his trail of kisses down San’s abdomen and he stood to be eye level with him, water droplets spilling down the sides of his high  cheekbones, and  getting caught in his long lashes.

__

“Me too. All I can do though is try to help. I am proud of you, you never really talk about this kind of stuff and for you to tell me? For you to tell how you actually fucking feel? San, this feels incredible, so thank you for sharing a little part of you. Thank you.”  Wooyoung’s  words were sincere, and San trailed a hand up his boyfriend’s arms and back up the sides of his face, cupping his cheeks. 

__

“It is hard. I haven’t even talked about half of the shit  Wooyoung . I also don’t want you to feel like you can’t share the bad shit of your childhood either- not at all.”

__

Wooyoung  gave him his trademark grin, “You don’t have to worry about that,” and he resumed back to kissing San all over and raising sets of goosebumps over his skin despite the warm climate in the shower.

__

“Now,” said  Wooyoung , dropping to his knees, his eyes bright. “Let me suck you off before we go skating.”

__

His boyfriend’s mouth was a godsend. 

__

San felt his stomach suck in with surprise and hips jerk as  Wooyoung’s  mouth slid over his dick all at once-  _ so no warning? _

__

San couldn’t help but twist his fingers through his wet locks and let his hand slide over his boyfriend’s relaxed jaw.  Wooyoung  looked up at him through wet eyelashes as he slid off, mouthing along the side of San’s cock, his tongue leaving a line of thick spit. He felt weird for thinking that it was so, so,  _ so  _ hot to see  Wooyoung’s  work so visible and  evident .  Wooyoung  let his hands slide up his  boyfriend’s thighs, allowing the water build up to cascade over his knuckles and drip down his strong forearms. 

__

San almost melted on the spot.

__

“Is this okay?” Asked  Wooyoung , letting his hot breath to fan over San, and San sighed deeply allowing his back to hit the cold wall of the shower. 

__

“More than okay.”

__

Wooyoung’s  mouth was warm, and  _ really _  wet. He could feel Woo’s tongue pressing on the underside of his cock as his cheeks hollowed and slid messily with no rhythm, his rosy lips looking absolutely obscene slicked in spit. The head of San’s cock met the back of his throat, inviting it in with ease and practice and just general knowledge of the makeup of San. 

__

His boyfriend always gave him the best dick sucking of his life,  everytime . 

__

“Can I finger you?”  Wooyoung  asked, his lips popping off with a  _ pop!  _ and San hissed at the sharp shot of pleasure that racked his body with electric pulses.  Wooyoung  was such a pretty sight to see like this. 

__

“In here?” San asked, his voice rising high at the thought of  Wooyoung’s  oh-so-pretty fingers sliding into him working their magic like they always do. San felt his stomach twist in anticipation and excitement. 

__

“The lube is still on the shampoo rack, right?”

__

San looked straight ahead to indeed see the pink bottle of lube winking back at him.

__

“Yeah,” San breathed softly, the steam filling his lungs, “Yeah, of course.”

__

He closed his eyes and leaned his head back up against the shower wall, and he felt  Wooyoung  nudge his leg up and gently put it over his shoulder. “Try to keep your footing steady, okay?”

__

“ Mmkay .”

__

Wooyoung  sweetly kissed the insides of San’s thigh making San’s body slightly twitch at the  sensitivity  and then  Wooyoung  harshly bit down on the supple flesh, making him writhe in pleasure and pain.

__

“Ah-”

__

His boyfriend soothed the steadily rising red and blue colors on his skin with a kiss and gentle suckle on the bite mark. San let his hand fall in  Wooyoung’s  hair, and the other reach to twist at his pink nipples that were getting beautiful attention from the shower head. 

__

“Good boy,”  Wooyoung  murmured against San’s skin, then bit once more, making San gasp louder this time and let out a high-pitched whine that echoed in the tiled space, and he swore he felt it reverberate right back to his cock. Which was , by the way, curving  to his stomach leaking precum steadily.

__

Wooyoung  noticed at the same time San did, and  Wooyoung  let his finger trace the sensitive head, gathering the dripping clear liquid gather on his fingertips. “Look at you,”  Wooyoung  said mockingly, smiling up at San. “You’re absolutely dripping, baby boy.”

__

With the trace of his boyfriend’s fingers at the head, his stomach sucked in rapidly and he tweaked his nipple.

__

San let out an embarrassing, “ hhhng ” at Woo’s words and he bit on his bottom lip harshly to silence himself, feeling his canines poking sharply into the sensitive flesh.

__

“Please just get me off.” San begged tugging on  Wooyoung’s  soft hair.

__

“Please what?”

__

“Please  Wooyoung .”

__

“Exactly.”

__

It was amazing how  Wooyoung  always kept control, even if he was the one on his knees sucking San’s dick. He always had him begging though. 

__

San, to his great relief heard the lube cap pop off, and he felt himself clench at the promise of  Wooyoung’s  fingers being able to enter him  _ right now. _

__

Wooyoung  must have sensed his impatience and could  probably tell  by the way San’s body tensed whenever  Wooyoung  would take his time because he bit another purpling mark on the other side of his thigh, but this time it was more painful. 

__

“ Wooy -”

__

“Hush.”

__

San gulped, nodding, and  Wooyoung  looked up at him, water running over his shoulders and he then said with a smile, “Touch yourself.”

__

Right. Okay. San could do that, he was good at that. 

__

He went to reach for his neglected cock, but  Wooyoung  swatted his hand away with a sharp smack, “I meant touch your nipples- you can’t touch your cock yet baby.”

__

San let out a shaky sigh, letting his fingers trail up slowly to his nipples and he gently rolled them between the pads of his fingers and then alternated to flicking them with the blunt end of his fingernails.  Wooyoung  watched as this happened, and he nodded seeming satisfied with the way it made San even more excited.

__

Wooyoung  was so good at distracting that he didn’t even notice that his fingers  were lubed  up and a single digit was probing at his hole.

__

San felt himself tense, but  Wooyoung  relaxed him by sucking with gentleness on the bottom of San’s balls. “Try to relax a bit, okay?”

__

“Y-y-yes.”

__

Wooyoung  kissed and let his tongue drag over San’s cock, drawing pleasure from him as he let the first finger slide in the velvet heat.  Wooyoung  mumbled a, “that’s it.” into San’s skin and he let the tip of his second finger try to adjust along with the first. 

__

“You always take it so well, huh?”

__

“You always finger fuck me so well.”

__

Wooyoung tisked  at the bluntness in San’s sentence, and he looked up at him through wet eyelashes and doe eyes that sparkled, “Has anyone ever fucked you like I do?”

__

Wooyoung  punctuated his sentence with the slide of his second finger into his hole and a stretch of the two digits inside him. San felt his hips stutter into exclamations, and he hissed, “No. Never. Nobody can compare to you.”

__

Wooyoung  hummed, as he pulled out to drizzle more lube on his long, long, fingers. San always loved with  he  fingered him because his  finger’s  could always reach the places San longed for most, and  Wooyoung  always had a speed that would leave him breathless.

__

“Go faster.”

__

“I do what I want,”  Wooyoung  said with a sharp smack to San’s ass, and he felt his hips snap forward with the impact. 

__

But,  Wooyoung  obliged, his fingers gathering speed in San’s now relaxed hole and the sound of squelching was the only sounds that spun around the room except for the occasional moans that chirped out of San’s slack-jawed mouth.

__

God,  Wooyoung  was so  _ good. _

__

He thought this as his boyfriend found his prostate. San’s moans went from pleasure to  _ intense. _

__

“Oh-”

__

“Found it.” Said  Wooyoung  with a smile in his voice, and San could already picture his smugness that would hang loosely from his lips and he could see the way his cupids bow would curve like lettering.

__

And boy, did  Wooyoung  find it. He absolutely hit the jackpot, because he kept letting his fingers press into the spot mercilessly with lightning speed and San felt himself gasping like a fish out of water. 

__

“Fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck ahh-”

__

San knew he sounded ridiculous and desperate, but it was just so fucking  good  and the pleasure had his back arching and rising against the cold shower wall and his toes curling.

__

“You sound so hot like this,” said  Wooyoung , his voice cracking, finally showing a break in composure at his boyfriend’s helplessness.

__

San felt blood rush to his cheeks, “I am close.”

__

“Already?”  Wooyoung  teased, speeding up his efforts and playfully licking up his boyfriend’s cock with saliva trailing behind his thick tongue.

__

“Yes.” San snapped, his knees feeling weak, the familiar tug in his stomach, and his vision blurring. 

__

Wooyoung  curled his fingers more and then he slowly dragged them down, brushing over his prostate with pressure, making San’s orgasm trail away.

__

“ Nonono -” he whined, his hips  thrusting  forward but  being quickly caught  by  Wooyoung’s  strong hand, slamming his hip back up against the wall. 

__

“Can I please touch myself?”

__

Wooyoung  pretended to ponder as he teasingly slowed his movements in San’s ass, and then alternated between slow thrusts of his fingers and quick body jarring ones. 

__

“Hmm, no.”

__

San felt a tear roll down his cheek and he groaned, “I am so close  Wooyoung , I am  _ so  _ close-”

__

“How bad do you  wanna  come? How bad do you  wanna  come on my fingers?”

__

“ Wooyoung -”

__

“How bad, San?”

__

“ _ So _ _  fucking bad _ .”

__

Wooyoung  pressed the rest of San’s body against the wall, and he tossed San’s other leg over, now holding his body up by his strong planes of his shoulders. With a quick lightening movement, he shoved  _ three  _ fingers up San’s ass and began to thrust them with the sounds of slick, air tight squelches filling the room. 

__

“ _ Oh my god?” _

__

Wooyoung  laughed as he hit San’s prostate with every curl and kitten lick at San’s cock head.

__

“I am  gonna  come,” he managed to moan, his voice hitching highly on the last syllable.

__

“Then come baby.”

__

Wooyoung  gave his fingers a sharp twist and bit into the same bruised spot as before, and San came with his eyes squeezed tightly and his back nearly snapping in half at the force of his orgasm- and the force that was known as  Wooyoung .

__

Wooyoung  kept his body stable as San felt himself writhe through his orgasm’s  after shocks  and also the shock that he had just went through. He heard gasping and he realized- oh, that was him gasping. His chest heaved, the water of the shower now cold, and he let his hips finally stop swirling on  Wooyoung’s  beautiful fingers.

__

He looked down to see his boyfriend looking up at him with a soft smile gracing his lips. “Are you okay?”

__

San nodded numbly, feeling his legs be gently set off of  Wooyoung’s  shoulders and  Wooyoung’s  strong arms cradling him as he let him slide down the shower wall to the floor. The water  was turned  off, the droplets no longer hitting him in the face and the chest.

__

San still had his eyes closed as  Wooyoung  leaned forward into his arms, and softly swept the wet hair off of San’s forehead. His lips were now soft and kind to San’s as they kissed open mouthed and lazily- which was a big difference to the  Wooyoung  that was just making San beg for his fingers in ass like five minutes ago. 

__

San felt  Wooyoung’s  tongue lick into his mouth lightly, meeting his. His large hands  were splayed  on either side of his head, gently massaging his temples with tenderness.

__

“Is my baby good?”

__

San let his eyes flutter open, and his heart swooped as he met  Wooyoung’s  eyes.

__

“I’m good.”

__

Wooyoung  kissed along his jaw, still bringing San down from his high and he nosed his throat as he snuggled in. 

__

San felt the buds of his flowers begin to staccato, the sun of golden shine and daffodils littered his chest and he began to bloom beautifully.  Wooyoung  was like a walking garden, a garden that never  failed to  bloom and give the most beautiful flowers in the heat of the summer, the twist of the clouds and the hang of the Wisteria.

__

San was too busy comparing  Wooyoung  to flowers to realize what he said, before it was too late.

__

“I love you.”

__

The showerhead dripped blue, and flowers wilted as  Wooyoung  looked up, his lips not finishing the damask print of flowers on his skin.

__

__

__

__

__

+

__

__

__

__

“Was it lets-all-wear-casual-clothes-and-not-tell- Hongjoong -and- Yeosang  day today?”  Hongjoong  demanded from the skating bench, lacing up his skates.

__

Hongjoong  and  Yeosang  looked fucking ridiculous.

__

Neon  tights were stretched  across their thighs, so tight in fact, that their skin color was shining through the microscopic holes of the nylon.

__

“Are you two matching?”

__

Yeosang  and  Hongjoong  spun, giving everyone a full view of their outfit. Running shorts  were slipped  over the lime green and hot pink material (to cover their private parts, of course) and they had black band tees to top it off. 

__

It was silent as  Hongjoong  and  Yeosang  scanned the bunch dressed in their usual attire, excluding  Jongho  who must have not opened up the  groupchat  either. His bedazzled converse winked back mockingly under the skating rink lights.

__

“You said we were dressing up for 80’s theme night,”  Yeosang  whined looking around.

__

“80’s theme night  is  cancelled . You would have known that if you had checked the  groupchat ,”  Seonghwa  replied standing up testing out the skates. He clicked his heels and grinned looking up. 

__

Hongjoong  scoffed.

__

Jongho  shrugged, “I wouldn’t be embarrassed, we look stunning ,  lads.”

__

“ _ Stunningly ugly.” _

__

Jongho  shushed Joong and Sang and held his finger up, “We shall skate with honor and pride.”  Mingi  and  Yunho  tried to muffle their laughter , looking anywhere but to what the scene held  infront  of them. 

__

Seonghwa  pushed himself out onto the floor, his skates gliding smoothly over the surface and grinned, twirling just to show off.

__

Yesang  grumbled angrily and rolled into the arena with him, the bedazzled heart on his butt caught the light, and  Yunho  and  Mingi  lost their composure.

__

“You got to be fucking kidding me,” Wheezed  Mingi , slapping  Yunho’s  shoulder and  Hongjoong  reached forward to fight, his fists flying comically in their direction. 

__

“For fucks sake can we just skate?” yelled  Seonghwa  next to  Wooyoung  out on the rink.

__

San couldn’t help but glance over at  Wooyoung , who was talking to  Seonghwa , his eyebrows raised as Hwa said something in between giggles.

__

“Are you okay?”  Yeosang  asked next to San out on the skating rink, skating gracefully next to him, his electric blue liner thick.

__

“What?” 

__

Yeosang  rolled his eyes and he skated ahead of San to only skid to a stop in front of him. “Something is off between you and  Wooyoung , which is like- really fucking weird. I haven’t ever seen you two like this? Did someone say the L word or something.”

__

San stared blankly at him.  Yeosang was good.

__

Yeosang’s  eyes widened and he skated forward in a rush just to swing he and San to the sidelines by the railing, “Wait, wait, San?”

__

San swore he could feel himself turn green as he looked over the railing lamely. “Yeah, I fucking said it when he just finished finger fucking the hell out of me.”

__

“Oh no.”

__

“Oh no indeed.”

__

Yeosang  winced and he patted San’s back, his pats shifting San’s body forward with each clap on his shoulder blade, and his bracelets jingled noisily. “Well, how did that go?”

__

“He said-” San paused, as  Yeosang  looked at him, his eyes getting wider in anticipation.

__

“Said what?”

__

“ _ Oh _ .”

__

“Oh?”

__

“Oh.”

__

Yeosang  twisted his body so he was leaning against the railing and facing forward to the rink, and he leaned his elbows back on the thick metal. “Well, it could have gone worse I suppose.”

__

San sighed, “Yeah, it really could have. He kind of just kissed me after I said it and didn’t mention it again. It was silent on the way here, but he dressed me if that counts for anything.”

__

Yeosang  raised his eyebrows and his shoulders rose up, “I mean, yeah, that is a good sign. I  honeslty  think he was just off guard  yanno \- like I think he wasn’t expecting it and he probably didn’t know what to do.”

__

San knew  Yeosang  was right, because he and  Wooyoung  wouldn’t have gotten this far without a little bit of love. Everyone around them saw it anyways, everyone already said they were in love, everyone with eyes would say it as they saw the two interact. And, San wasn’t stupid. He and  Wooyoung  had discussed before with the way they  were completely enamored  by each other, and he had felt it every time  Wooyoung  would  _ look  _ at San with his intense eyes. Something was there, but they had turned on the music box with the silver ballerina that decorated the top and they had just left her twisting. She would just dance, and dance, and dance with her tinkling bells in the East wind. She would play  her  sad  old carousel music  that clinked  silver-belled memories .

__

Their love would just keep turning and singing- they would just dance around the word  _ love  _ and never use it. 

__

The carnival had to end eventually, even if the cotton candy still left sweet residue of saccharine in his mouth. 

__

“But why is he acting like- like...” San tried searching for the right words as  Yeosang  gently pulled them back out to the hardwood floors, “Like- it didn’t happen? It as if he didn’t want me to ever say it!”

__

Yeosang  hummed, and he hooked an arm around  San’s  and they skated past  Wooyoung  and  Seonghwa , leaving them behind. San felt  Wooyoung’s  eyes on him.

__

“Maybe, he didn’t think about it. I don’t mean it as in he never thought about loving you because you and I both know that is ridiculous, but I mean it as if he avoided thinking about it. He  most likely didn’t  think about it because, hell San, those words are scary to anyone.”

__

“They’re just words.”

__

“Not really, San. If they were ‘just words’ to you truly, then you wouldn’t have waited so long to say it and you wouldn’t have panicked after you did.”

__

San felt his knees wobble as he hit the sides of the thick paneling that kept skaters in, he cursed and rubbed his knee. “I hate it when you’re right.  _ Fuck _ , you’re right  Yeosang .”

__

Yeosang  smiled with glee, “Of course I am.”

__

“It just kind of came out, you know? It’s not like I wanted to drop it on him like that, and he doesn’t have to say it back, I totally understand. I just wish that he could act normal and like it wasn’t the worst thing he has ever heard.”

__

“I get that, San,”  Yeosang  said, his hair gently blowing back from the speed they were gathering, and they looped  Seonghwa  and  Wooyoung  again. San tried to ignore him, like  Wooyoung  was him, and he kept his eyes forward and he focused on  Yeosang .

__

Yeosang  continued, “I know it is so stupid of people to put that pressure on this stupid ass phrase, and I blame Hallmark movies and romance novels, if you were wondering.  But,  even I think it holds a lot of significance in relationships. It is different for different situations and contexts.” He said, looping his arm around San’s shoulder and nudging him with his bony hip.

__

“With friends- it is easy to say. You mean ‘I love you’ like you love their friendship and unity. You say ‘I love you’ to your parents who give you their  storgic  love. You  say  ‘I love you’ in a relationship that means forever.”

__

“Does he not want to spend forever with me?”

__

“ Of course  he does. He just didn’t think that far, San.”

__

And San  _ gets  _ it, he really does. It was just so hard. 

__

Yeosang  sighed, “Now, blurring between friends and relationships- that is complicated too.”

__

San raised an eyebrow and casually dropped, “Like you and  Hongjoong ?”  Yeosang  tensed, his skates skidding a bit on the surface and he carefully composed himself. 

__

“Yeah, I guess.”

__

San nodded and they skated in a comfortable silence for a few moments, Britney Spears blasting over the speakers. 

__

“How did you know?”  Yeosang  asked eventually, pulling San closer.

__

“I have seen this since like fourth grade.”

__

Yeosang  let out an “ahh” and he shook his head,  seemingly gathering  his thoughts that were flailing their arms in confusion and in entanglement of complicated strings that are knotted. “We fucked, and that made things really complicated.”

__

San felt his eyes widen and his jaw slack open, “Wait, you two fucked?”

__

Yeosang  looked miserable, “A lot. Like for two weeks straight. Multiple times.”

__

“When?”

__

"On his bed, on the couch, on the counter, over the arm rest of the couch-"

__

"No, not fucking where, Yeosang, I asked  _when_."

__

Yeosang blushed crimson, his eyes crinkling sheepishly. "Sorry, Britney Spears is playing too loudly for me to hear everything you say." San rolled his eyes, trying to get the mental image of his best friends fucking on the counter he was literally sitting on not event two days ago. San continued, pushing his thoughts away, " So when, may I ask again, did this happen?"

__

Yeosang looked up, searching his brain.  “Three weeks ago? I  dunno .”

__

It was now San’s turn to stand in front of  Yeosang , with his arms acting as stoppers for the worried boy that was standing there.

__

“Why didn’t you say anything, Sang?”

__

“I panicked. We had kissed before- a lot too. Nothing ever went past that and we could usually just forget about it and say that we were drunk and  Hongjoong  would always laugh it off like it was funny and never mention it again and then we would just kiss again and start the cycle all over again and now I feel like shit an-”

__

“ Yeosang .”

__

Yeosang  paused, and he leaned over the railing, looking down at his neon themed skates miserably. 

__

“It sucks. It’s like some teen movie and I fucking hate it? It really isn’t some romantic comedy where everyone gets relief and resolution- no. No, it  fucking  sucks to have sex with someone you really, really, really like and to know that it is your fault that you have feelings because they didn’t ask for that. He didn’t ask for me to have feelings, and he isn’t bound to ask if I do. We are just hooking up- he isn’t leading me on or anything. He is just being.”

__

San chose his words carefully, hesitating, “ Yeosang , I don’t think the feelings are one sided.”

__

“Did he specifically tell you that he likes me, San?” 

__

“No-”

__

“Then we can’t assume.”

__

San bit his bottom lip, and he looked out onto the rink where his friends were all laughing and slamming into each other to try and get each  one off  track. San watched  Jongho  slam into an old lady.

__

“I  dunno , Sang.  Hongjoong  is the type to fuck without  feelings and stuff-  he has done it before- but to fuck his  bestfriend  without any strings attached? He isn’t stupid. I just think he doesn’t want to think about it. He is doing what  Wooyoung  is doing- not thinking that far.”

__

Yeosang  smiled and scoffed, “I hate when you use my words to teach me lessons.” 

__

San shrugged, and he gently grabbed  Yeosang’s  shoulders, shaking him forward with each syllable, “Don’t be dense.”

__

Yeosang  nodded, “Noted.”

__

It was San’s turn to loop his arm around his shoulders, and he leaned in to  Yeosang’s  warm arms, “I am not saying to get yourself deeper into this mess, I think you two should just talk about it. It’s not like he is some casual friend or stranger- this is your best fucking friend  Yeosang . You two know each other better than anyone, and you’re closer than anyone I know. Something is there- so you talk about it.”

__

Yeosang  looked thoughtful for a moment, his eyes searching San’s, “You’re a good fucking person, San. Start believing in yourself more, okay?”

__

San thought  Yeosang  was always a beautiful person, a genuine and good soul. He always had this radiating presence- he  would drift into the blue sky,  his  bright colors stark against the pastel background, highlighting  their co- exsistence  of gravity. If San was a balloon,  Yeosang  was the sky and gravity free ghost that lifted him with a tied red bow of friendship. 

__

San felt his buds open back up, his chest easing with every new breath of fresh air, “Okay,” he said with a smile.

__

“Okay.”

__

__


	7. The rain and wind stopped blowing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> San thinks that things are beginning to become clear

 

All it takes is a moment. 

One singular moment to change everything. It only takes a genuine second of kindness to change someone’s course in day, it takes one moment to think, “I probably shouldn’t say that.” Or, “I should say that.” It is not hard to alter everything. 

San thinks, that all it took was a moment of clarity to realize, “I am not okay.” He had repeatedly told himself that he would get over it. That he would just brush the boulder off his shoulders, he would just watch it roll down the hill he was climbing- but he forgot one thing. He was also pushing another fucking rock, another stone up the mountain. He was so far, so far from the stars. 

They winked, they shined, they passed over the night sky, taking all of their time in the world. 

San envied them. 

San envied the stars. 

He envied the stars that would get to cross over into astronomical twilight with grace, with ease, with just a swoop of over the horizon. Stars get to have one thing he had always craved the most, the singular thing he had wished with the stars themselves winking above- freedom. To be  _free._  

What was it like to be a fixed luminous point in the night sky that is a large, with a remote incandescent body like the sun? What was it like to glow? San knew it was selfish, he knew that wishing to be something shiny and beautiful was anyone’s dream because who didn’t like to be in the spotlight? 

He would never know the feeling of being the center of something, or the feeling of complete luminescence. How did those people feel when those around them cheered for them to do well, how did those people feel when everyone was rooting for you? All San had growing up was his own hand to pat him on the back, which, was enough. But looking back, San thinks that it really wasn’t. That simple lie would roll in a round plane and as tears would flow like dark matter in the cosmic universe that was discovered to be 13.7 billion years old, he would repeat, “I am okay. I am well.” Because that was all he really could say. If San had just sat around dropping pity on his soft stomach, how far would he have gotten in life? 

To put it simply, he would have been dead if he hadn’t told himself that he was going to be okay. 

Because, that was what San did. He would lie to himself. 

It was easy to lie- almost too easy, for some. When all you do is dream, when you hope that you will never hope again, the process of webbing lies into the constellation of Caelum where he was the engraver’s chisel becomes second nature. San began to believe he was okay, that he wasn’t scribbling linocuts of his own name into a gravestone that sat by itself shrouded in fog and desolate croaks of broken wishes.  He wasn’t good at feelings, so he just lied. It was always easier that way. 

San had a bad habit about not talking about his feelings. 

He really was not sure  _why_ he would clam up when he had to confront someone, or when he had to solve some issue that was causing him more pain than it should- but he was a creature of habit. It was really hard to tell somebody your feelings, it was hard to tell someone when they have done something to upset you- because you could upset them. San knew he couldn’t be the only one out there that felt this way. He knew he couldn’t be. 

San was much of a gardener, a gardener that liked to pour water onto the plants and flowers, refill the syrup for the zipping humming birds that flitted around the plethora's of rainbow colored flowers, and he was the caretaker that hated to pull the weeds. Weeds were a form of life too, but they only took up room in the square of land that he tended to. So, the weeds would stay. 

San remembers his mom in this situation, and he can’t help but to think of her. 

It is hard to pull a weed out of your life when they grew up next to your flower, when they grew off of the life you had given up. Why was it so hard to cut and uproot someone? He remembers the day he had come home from school only to find her face down in her ashes, the tv playing some stupid gameshow loudly. The answer was  _What is Roots_ , and he found it ironic. He had to pull his slobbering mother up by her strong shoulders that used to carry him, and he had to uproot her from where she lay. It was like pulling a massive oak that had fell from the storm- did the tree make a sound when it fell in the forest if no one was there to hear it? 

“Sometimes you have to cut the thorns off your roses, San.” His grandmother used to say, pointing a wrinkled petal finger in his face. The tip of her digit would poke his nose gently, swaying in the wind. “Sometimes, the rose may be pretty. It may give you the sweetest smells and winks in the sun, but when the thorn pricks you in the night, you have to cut off the thorn. Because when it gets dark again, and you pick it back up to catch a sniff- it will make you bleed in the same spot, from the same thorn, once more. Cut off the thorn, no matter how pretty the rose may seem. It is only hiding from you the true capability of yourself to pick the roses without the thorns.” 

It isn’t like he wanted his mother to die- she didn’t deserve that, especially after the life she had been given. Life wasn’t fucking fair. He didn’t care how childish that sounded, nor did San care about how bratty it did, too. When all San had seen is good for the people who had it easy, and the same old shit for the people who were stuck in the circle of poverty- he had begun to lose hope. How do you hope for something that is unavoidable? What do you do? 

You begin to give up. All of the fucking sadness in the world was unavoidable. It just was, and it was going to be that way for a long time.  

 

 

 

 

+ 

 

 

 

 

No matter how awful San was at feelings, or how useless he felt when it came to trying to convey those feelings, he had to talk to Wooyoung.  

The whole “communication is key” thing or whatnot was truly important, but it pissed him off that he still had to do it. Why was it so hard just to say how you truly feel? 

Well. San tried. After Wooyoung was three fingers deep- but, you know, small things. 

“We need to talk.” 

Wooyoung looked up from his ice cream (They were at Moomers, their favorite ice cream place) and he furrowed his eyebrows, pushing back his black hair and giving it a shake. 

“About-” San felt his throat constrict and his face heat up, it was always so fucking hard to talk about things that were fragile, things that were made up of glass. 

San started again, taking a deep breath, “About us.” 

Wooyoung looked back down at his chocolate runny cream, and he swirled the sunshine yellow spoon around a few times, flattening the cold clumps. He seemed to ponder, but he stayed silent. He was letting San talk. Or he was ignoring him. It had to be one of the two. 

Nothing really changed between them- they still fucked, though Wooyoung seemed more cautious and he handled San with such surprising gentleness, San began to wonder if the “I love you” was mutual and left unsaid. They still woke up next to each other almost every morning, and Wooyoung still kissed his cheek and snuggled deeper into his shoulder blades, his breath warm and comforting for his glass body, for his clear framework that showed his insides and his heart on his long branching arms. Wooyoung still showered with him before they went to meet friends, he still texted him about random things during the day- everything was normal, everything was fine, so why did San feel so fucking suffocated? 

Yesoang was right- he really needed to talk about it. He really needed to just  _talk._  San didn’t want to imagine a world without Wooyoung, especially a world where all it took was San just to communicate to keep him. San thought about Yeosang, and how his problems could be fixed with just a little bit of faith, trust, and communication dust too. Maybe everyone was bad at talking about how they feel. Was it just human nature to not want to talk about what was wrong? Was it just human nature to not want to talk about what was filling up your throat and suffocating your whole being? 

People are a lot like glass dolls; glass dolls are beautiful, crafted with the human hands of fragility, but they are easy to break when they are dropped from heights. Heights that may seem normal to some, but to the glass doll that peers down the shelf and to the cold and unforgiving ground before them- the distance becomes staggering. Humans are tiny, fragile, and often see-through when positioned in the right light with the right person- glass dolls too, become personified. 

“What about us?” 

San left out a frustrated huff, “Us.” 

“Us?” 

San put down his napkin, and he turned his face upwards to try and meet Wooyoung’s eyes, who were not meeting his.  

‘When I said that I loved you.” 

Wooyoung nodded his head a few times, and he made his lips form like they were making the mmm sound, and he sighed.  

“San-” he cut himself off, and then he leaned back in his chair, finally meeting the eye’s of San.  

“I don’t think I am ready for that conversation.” 

“What is so hard about addressing it?” 

Wooyoung let his eyes shift rapidly and he ran his hands through his hair, it was something he often did was he was annoyed. San knew him too well.  

“You mean a lot to me- you fucking know that. I don’t want to just talk about something like this, right here, and right now. We can cope perfectly without talking about it at the moment, can you just give me a moment with that? I don’t want any misunderstandings to ruin our relationship when it could be avoided. It’s not that I don’t care about you San, so please don’t even take it that way.” 

And, well, San wasn’t really sure how to feel about that.  

On one hand, he felt like Wooyoung was blowing him off because he didn’t want to face his feelings, but on the other hand, he felt like he shouldn’t push Wooyoung on something he didn’t want to talk about, especially on something that was this important in their relationship.  

“I-” San paused, now being the one not to make eye contact as Wooyoung stared at him through his drop-dead gorgeous lashes, “I am just feeling frustrated. That is all.” 

Wooyoung was quiet as he looked out the large glass window, letting his finger trace at the tiny fissure that looked like a spider web on the outer edge on the square.  

“I get that. I do.” 

San sighed and let a finger also run down the window, “No, I don’t think you do.” 

 

 

 

 

+ 

 

 

 

 

San hadn’t talked to his mom in a while.  

Not since he had left for FU, he didn’t think he could handle the amount of despair she brought into his life. He didn’t know if reaching out to her finally was okay, he didn’t know if it was okay to miss someone that horrible, but yet, that loving. 

 _He loved her too much to completely cut her off, the sugar cube messages were the past bits of her old self, and her old carousel music playing silver-belled memories. Her cruel phone calls and threats of her own suicide were salt cubes that_ _were disguised_ _as sweet, sweet, sugar._  

 _He couldn’t help but hope for her golden merry-go-round that dripped with saccharine and clear Carillon chimes._  

He was going to call her.  

Not to make amends, not to try and tell her off, to call her all of the names that he was itching to sceam into her cotton candy ears- he was going to call her to officially get closure.  

Maybe today was the day for difficult decisions. 

Hongjoong was next to him on the beach towel at Jongho’s, and he tried to pass San the blunt. “Are you sure you don’t want a hit before you have this conversation?” 

“Positive,” San said, looking down at his phone screen, his eyes never blinking.  

Hongjoong hesitiantly brought the blunt to his own mouth and took a long drag that hollowed out his cheekbones and made his jawline even more shapely, and prominent than it already was. Hongjoong may be a walking sun, but he sure did know how to look dangerous, to look dangerous and eclipse himself with this cat-like eyes that made the shadows whisper. He could be all sharp edges too.  

San kept staring at his phone screen, the seagulls above him cawing annoyingly.  _You can’t do it. You can’t do it. You can’t do it._  

Stupid birds.  

Hongjoong knocked him on his shoulder and stubbed out his joint in the tide that was licking at their toes and washing over their ankles. “Listen dude, don’t force yourself to do something you’re not ready for. I know you just want to get it off your chest or something like that, but don’t force yourself to do it to prove a point. You are so much more than someone who just does things to do things. You’re San and you do things with purpose.” 

San let Hongjoongs words sink in, and he groaned throwing himself back on the sand while the bright sun blocked his eyesight.  

“I think I am ready?” 

“Don’t  _think_ you’re ready,” Hongjoong said, emphasizing with finger quotations, “Know you’re ready. Try to plan out what you’re going to say and not be caught off guard.” 

San sat up, shaking the soft grainy sand out of his hair and he propped his elbows up on his knees. “Here is the thing hyung, will I ever be ready for this conversation? Is there really a right moment to tell someone you’re cutting them off forever?” 

Hongjoong looked troubled, and he seemed to hesitate with his next words. “Maybe-” he paused, sititng up straighter to look at San, “Do you think she would even care, San?” 

That really hit San hard.  

Would his mom even fucking care that San was cutting her off? She never really cared for him anyways and those cotton candy words were just ploys to get San to give her sympathy or whatever she needed- did she even fucking  _care_? 

San was silent as he looked out at the ocean, and he nodded his head slightly. “I liked to think that I was doing this for closure, but maybe I was doing this because I wanted to see if she even gave a damn. And that hurts a lot, Joong.” 

Hongjoong had tears in his eyes, and he leaned over to rest his head on San’s shoulder. 

“Sannie, you are more brave and golden than you realize.” 


	8. But you're stuck out in the same old storm again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> San sees shadows dancing across the wall

Things were tense around the apartment. 

It’s not like Wooyoung was treating him any different- but things just felt...different. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but there was new sort of fragility that circled around the house and hid behind doors. San tried to dust off the ceiling fans to get rid of his nervous energy. 

Mingi and Yunho watched San dust from the couch and they both had raised eyebrows that could have slammed the ceiling fan with the height they were reaching. Yunho worriedly looked at Mingi.

“Hey, uh, San?” Yunho called from below. 

“Yes?” San panted as he worked the feather duster around the parabola shaped edges, shooing away the dust that tried to enter his nose. San looked down at them from his stepping stool. 

“You have been cleaning that blade for 4 minutes now- I think it is clean.” 

Mingi nodded, “It looks good.” 

San now focused on the shiny blade of the fan and he was brought back down to earth, he didn’t even realize that it was the same part of the fan that he had been attacking with the duster.  

“Sorry.” He said sheepishly, stepping off the stool and placing it back in the tiny storage closet. San spun around in a circle looking for more things to clean and scrub away to distract himself. 

Mingi sighed, “Okay. You’re going to the movies with us or something, I can’t stand this.” 

“Can’t stand what?” 

“This!” 

San could on stare at his college roommate in confusion. 

“This anxiety, this  _worry,_ San. You need to get some fresh air to clear your head, I don’t think you’re in a good space right now.” 

Yunho nodded with Mingi, their hands clasped together, fitting like a rose in a garden, a puzzle piece, a perfectly placed door handle that  _clicked._  They were good together. 

Did he and Wooyoung look like that? 

“I see.” San said, leaning his back against the white walls to face the pair, and he crossed his ankles together. He didn’t deserve such honest friends, especially ones that actually loved him and supported his journey of discovery. They may not know that San is on some kind of internal epic journey, but they were being fantastic characters that aided him in his crisis.  

San didn’t like to mope like a damsel in distress over someone, especially some  _boy_ . He had always found that growing up he would find much annoyance in people that acted like it was the end of the world when their relationship didn’t work out, San always thought there were better things to worry about than somebody who obviously didn’t give a fuck about you. Why waste your time? But as he got older, he began to realize that people are not crying about the person specifically, they are crying over the  _loss_  of somebody- whether they realize it or not.  

San remembers watching  _New Moon_  and seeing Bella cry over Edward who had left her, and he had saw the way she had curled up in that ball of despair with some indie music playing behind her. San didn’t know if that was supposed to be realistic, or just over dramatized. San wasn’t curling up in Wooyoung’s floral scented sheets and snotting on his pillow, but he did feel an absence that wasn’t there before- and they weren’t even broken up. They didn’t plan on breaking up- San hopes.  

San begins to think that maybe people feel so at loss with breakups or conflict because they feel like they haven’t had a proper closure, or something of the sorts. Humans can be complex, but when it comes down to it, they also have all the same feelings. People have a natural curiosity to want to know why, how, and when.  _Why_  did they break up with me,  _how_  did this happen, and  _when_  could I have changed to make this have a different outcome? 

So San organizes his thoughts. 

 

1)  _Why?_  

Why did San say that he loved Wooyoung without thinking like that, was he an idiot? 

2)  _How?_  

How come San was such an idiot? 

3)  _When?_  

When could have San decided to not be an idiot? 

 

 

Maybe the organized “list” wasn’t helping.  

 _It’s not like we_ _are broken_ _up, or even close to having that happen._ San thinks as he drums his fingers against his thigh. It is not like  Wooyoung  said that he didn’t necessarily love San- it was a complicated cycle.  Wooyoung  didn’t say it back- but he didn’t deny it either.  Yeosang  was right- it was just something  Wooyoung  wasn’t expecting, something he wasn’t ready for. It wasn’t some emo reason like  _I have vulnerability issues,_  or  _I can’t make commitment_ , it was just something he wasn’t ready to discuss yet. San had to learn how to respect that if he wanted a healthy relationship- but god, was it hard to have that sort of boundaries. 

When you’re dating someone, and you’re in love, boundaries go away. Love doesn’t know boundaries, nor do they even feel them when you have emotionally become one, when you have become so united and together that nothing seems like it is separated anymore. That was when lines became blurry- complicated.  

He hates when Yeosang is always fucking right. What an idiot.  

San was tired of whining about his love life when he could focus on much more important things- things that adults worry about. San was experiencing so many changes this year, and it was making his feet lift off the ground that once held him down, his balloons were preparing for lift off. His clipped wings were mending, and his flowers were blooming again. The aching cough that used to paralyze his blossoming lungs was easing, and the shift in gravity took of the pressure. He knew he was growing- even if it was one helium filled balloon at a time. Eventually, if you tied enough balloons to his arms that were wings, San would be able to fly. 

The movie wasn’t bad, it was some gory zombie thriller that made San’s stomach churn- but he was glad he was out of the apartment with Mingi and Yunho. He tried not to stare at the couple that tried to be subtle with their touches and love. Mingi and Yunho were gentle creatures, their love a downy pillow that is filled with petals and understanding. San couldn’t help but to smile at the two that were painted pink and highlighted with rosy hues. They were a flush of cards, and a flush of shells on their chest right above the heart. If you looked, you would see a splay of blushing hand prints. 

San knew that they had a love that is envied, they had a love that was genuine and rare. 

San bid his goodbyes to Mingi and Yunho and hopped his way up the creaky wooden stairs to Hongjoongs house- he had a lot to talk about. This was all about growth.  

It wasn’t a surprise to see Joong curled up in a ball watching anime with his electric pink bong (respectfully named Pinkie) on the shady wooden table that could fall apart any minute.  

“Oh hey,” Hongjoong said when San walked in, sitting up to stretch his branching arms, his shirt riding above his belly button. San nodded and sat on the couch across from him, and he too curled his legs up underneath him. Hongjoong sensed San’s apprehension and his eyebrows furrowed and he asked San, “What is wrong?” 

San shrugged, “Nothing,” he turned to look around the small living room and he then faced Hongjoong again, “Where is Yeosang?” 

“How would I know?” 

Which was a strange answer for Hongjoong- who always knew where his other half was.  

“You should know-” 

“I don’t keep tabs on him.” Hongjoong interrupted, kicking up the volume on the TV. Well, so be it then, San mused. 

They were silent for a moment, the wooden clock ticked steadily in their hush, and the sound bounced off the walls and clicked up San’s spine. So much time had passed- but not really.  

San sometimes felt so suffocated in the man-made construction of fucking time.  

Everything was measured by time- how long will it take to find a job, how long will it take to graduate, how long will it take to get married? All of this was a damn race with people, it is almost like everyone made it a game to rush their lives. San felt so crowded, rushed, and on edge like he was in a massive crowd of rioting people that were trying to make it just five feet further than him. He also saw the way time affected those who had nothing. 

When someone is in poverty, all they have is time. All they have is time to fix themselves- but there is a catch. How could someone beat the others that were racing when they are held back by the hands of the poor? If life was a race, the poor were already losing. San had seen it his entire life, the poor get left behind no matter how hard they try to push forward, how hard they try to get ahead, they are still swallowed whole by the mass of arms that are pushing them down. They too are stuck behind the boulder, forcing it uphill that is pushing the rest to the stars with a front row seat to the moon. The others just get to watch from behind the curtain if they’re lucky.  

San saw this disadvantage in his friends. 

He saw it in Seonghwa’s rusty car that never promised him another day of transportation to work, so Seonghwa would have to wake up and go to his car with his fingers crossed that it would start even if the gas was on empty. Yeosang’s stomach used to growl as kids and he would be too faint to participate in basketball; basketball was something Yeosang excelled at, it was something that could have promised him a scholarship far away on the horizon, but he had to stay on the ground to support his mother. Hongjoong would always have an open door to his friends, even if he had to give up his bed to his little brother. The couches were always an option for anyone, it didn’t matter to him if he had to sleep on the floor. Wooyoung once took off his own shoes at school to give to Seonghwa because someone had made fun of the way his toe had stuck out of the hole in the shoe. Wooyoung had walked around in socks all day, no trace of shame on his face. San remembers seeing him glide down the hall, his toes wiggling in his socks with confidence, and a smirk that lasted- he was untouchable. 

 There was something beautiful in the way that humans helped one another, the pure genuine motivation behind things. That,  _that,_ was something San didn’t mind having hope in. The hope of humanity. He supposes there are worse things out there to have hope in. 

They were becoming adults and learning that “life isn’t fair” but they have known that for a while now. They were going to become better than their past, they were going to break the cycle, not just scratch the surface of the thin glass that carried the weight of them. It was not going to shatter today. 

“You may not keep tabs on him, but you two are always together.” San said carefully, trying to get Hongjoong to meet his eyes. The boy was stoned to the bone, his eyes had a glazed over look that had spiderwebs of red that decorated the whites of his eyes.  

Hongjoong was silent, then he threw himself back down on the couch and he turned down the TV a few notches.  

“He is out getting fucked by some guy, I think.”  

San nodded his head a couple of times, now facing the screen of the shitty TV. He laced his fingers together across his lap, “You think?” 

Hongjoong’s eyes remained blank as he stared at the ceiling that had water spots littering across the rocky surface and he rested his tiny, yet slender hands on the top of his stomach. “Well, I know he is.” 

“Does that bother you?” 

“Why would it fucking bother me?” 

San shrugged, sensing the turn of the conversation, and he tossed his head back on the back of the couch, “I don’t know.” 

Hongjoong eyed him from where he sat, his lips pursed. “I feel like you do know why you asked me that.” 

San huffed, and his stomach flipped at the sign of conflict that was arising, “Joong, I don’t feel like arguing tonight. It was just a simple question.” 

He sat back up and he turned to face San, his face flushed, “I am not trying to fucking argue, San. It was a simple question too.” He leaned forward, his elbows resting on the rips of his jeans that decorated his knees, “Why. Did. You. Ask.” 

“For fucks sake Joong, it is so obvious you two like each other.” He snapped, allowing his head to sit back up. “It’s not like I am blind. This has been an issue for a while.” 

Hongjoong was silent, his mouth slightly hanging open at San actually being bold for once. 

“I-” 

“No,” San interrupted, sitting up straighter, “I am tired of you getting mad every time Yeosang goes out with some other guy that isn’t you- you two aren’t dating so stop moping about it, or suck it the fuck up and actually make him yours. Other than that, you have no fucking right to get upset and take it out on him.”  

Hongjoong was silent once more, and he angrily looked away from San’s intense eyes, and he looked out at the dark window, only to see night. It was like he was waiting for Yeosang to turn up on his doorstep anytime now.  

“Fuck off San.” 

“No.” 

Joong stood up angrily and spun around in frustration, his hands wound tightly in his hair. ”You know what? I admit it. It is driving me fucking crazy that he is out there with someone else- but I am not mad at him. Don’t even think that. I am mad at myself- I-it would be unfair for me to get angry with him for something that I caused.” 

“You  _are_ taking it out on him though Hongjoong. You keep giving him the silent treatment, you keep fucking and dashing like nothing happened. The drunk kisses? What about those?” 

“I am not obligated to like him back, San.” 

San was silent. 

“Hongjoong, you’re not fooling anyone. You and I both know that you don’t have to force feelings, you know that is not what I am saying. You like him, I am not a fucking idiot.” 

“Well, maybe you are.” Hongjoong said harshly, turning over on his side, not facing San for the rest of the night. The TV stayed on. 

 

 

 

 

+ 

 

 

 

 

San went to Wooyoung’s apartment after leaving Hongjoong’s, and he quietly slid himself next to Wooyoung’s sleeping figure, an angel in the bedsheets. 

He must not have slid in quietly enough because Wooyoung mumbled from beside him in the dark, the moonlight brushing over his sharp nose and cheekbones that could cut glass. “San?” 

“Yeah, I am here.” San whispered, pulling the covers over his body and settling in. Wooyoung smiled faintly in the dark and he scooted himself closer to him, wrapping his large arms around San’s tiny frame- they looked graceful. They fit together well.  

“Hi.” Wooyoung whispered in San’s ear, kissing his cheek softly; San couldn’t help but to smile at the gesture, and his heart allowed himself to ease up a little in the hopes that they were okay. 

“We are okay, you know that right, baby?” Wooyoung said, splaying his warm hand across San’s stomach, dragging his blunt nails across the expanse. San shivered, “Yes, I know.” 

“Try not to worry. We are alright. You are okay.  _We_  are okay.” 

San allowed himself to exhale and he nodded, shuffling his back even closer to the front of Wooyoung’s heater-like body, and he grasped the hand that Wooyoung was using to trace his stomach and he gripped the knuckles with a gentle squeeze. “I know- I am sorry for pushing you to talk about things you don’t want to ta-” 

“It’s not that,” Wooyoung said, sounding pained. “San, I do not want you to think that it is your fault. You’re literally perfect, who wouldn’t want to love you with their whole heart?” San’s stomach twisted at those words, and he felt the sticky sweet butterflies that were dripping in saccharine, try to take off for flight.  

“You saying that you loved me wasn’t the issue- please, d-don't think that.” He took a deep breath, and he pulled San even closer, his chin resting on top of his head. “Don’t think that- because I love you too. I love you a whole fucking a lot, San.” 

San twisted his body to face Wooyoung’s, his eyes wide in the light of the moon that was peeking through the cheap blindes and onto their faces that cast shadows across the room. They looked like boys sharing secrets in the dark of the night, dispensing dreams and fairytales into the atmosphere, and into the twilight.  

“Wooyoung, don’t feel pressured to say it.” 

“I am not.” 

“Then why say it now, when you didn’t even want to talk about it?” 

Wooyoung’s eyes were so intense, San was convinced that they too could cast their own shadows onto the dead streets.  

“I had a lot of thinking to do, and not the kind where I questioned if I loved you. I have known that I loved you since the day I saw you at Hongjoong’s- but that was too crazy of me to say that I just  _knew._  I think we both knew.” 

And San knew he was right. He remembers the feeling in his gut when they properly met, when they locked eyes, he knew that something was different- something was new.  

 _Wooyoung_ _wasn’t really the type to let emotions show on the outside. He always just harnessed it in like pulling a dancing petal from the sky and swallowing it whole._ _Wooyoung_ _liked to let it root, grow, and bloom within his throat to let the flower spill from his words in a garden full of grace._  

 _“_ I just- I don’t know why it scared me. I just think I was more surprised that someone like you could love me. I don’t know. I began to question if what we were doing was the right thing, if I wanted to take this path. We are still both so young, San, I couldn’t help but be scared I guess. But I know, that I am willing to take this chance. If I never allow myself to be loved, how will I ever truly love? I can’t hold myself back like that. If you never try, how will-” 

“-you ever know.” San finished for him, their favorite quote sounding with finality and poise- the shadows danced across the room, telling their own story. The story about two boys who were in love.  

San smiled, and so did Wooyoung.  


	9. Let go of your umbrella

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> San thinks he can begin to twirl his umbrella

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the spacing is super fucked up and I don't know why?????????? I tried to fix it but it didn't work :( sorry if the overall chapter looks shitty because of that. does anyone know how to fix it?

San wasn’t quite sure what to expect after Wooyoung said that he loved him back- it wasn’t anything like _The Notebook_ , there wasn’t confetti exploding around them from the ceiling, and there wasn’t a pivotal moment where everything felt shifted. It was just...natural. Nothing really changed, they still fit together nicely, and the sun still rose with every morning in the East and settled in the West. The only thing that had changed was that Wooyoung would murmur an, “I love you” and that was that. San supposes that it was because they were already in love- the words had just been left unspoken. 

He did admit though; the three little words did make his heart swoop like a balloon losing helium and gaining it back in less than a millisecond. It was thrilling, saccharine filled, and... comfortable.  

Yeah, comfortable. 

San also couldn’t exactly remember when he knew that he was in love, it definitely didn’t happen like it did in the movies, and it wasn’t something great and poetic like Oscar Wilde.  _ San doesn’t really believe in that bullshit about love at first sight- because he had seen  _ _ Wooyoung _ _  before.  _ _ Wooyoung _ _  had seen him before. Nothing like this had happened before. He felt like a school girl over analyzing every move her crush that she swooned over made, but he knew when his center of gravity was off. He knew when his tilt had tilted too far, and San knew when everything stopped moving. _ __ San supposes that he had always loved  Wooyoung , that it was destiny, and  maybe, just  maybe, in another world he was still in love with him there too.  Perhaps he  had always been in love.

He wasn’t a fan over overly romantic gestures, it always felt like too much in his mind. It didn’t mean San didn’t sob over romance movies and books, though. Things always looked better in books and films than it did in real life. Reality was harsh, especially to those who deserved the most in life.

“Have you talked to  Hongjoong  recently?”  Yeosang’s voice sings  over the speaker, and  Wooyoung  looks at San with his eyebrows raised, his gaming put on pause. San had told him about  Yeosang  and  Hongjoong , and he had told him how  Hongjoong  wasn’t too pleased with San at the moment. 

“I talked to him about a week ago, maybe? Why?”

Yeosang  lulls on the phone, and a sigh echoed through the shitty speaker of San’s phone- San knew that kind of sigh anywhere.  Hongjoong  had not talked to him either. 

“He isn’t- he won’t answer my calls.”  Yeosang  finally says, and a sound of defeat comes from his lips in the form of a raspberry, the sound reverberating throughout the room. 

Wooyoung  resumes his game but he continues to listen in, and San slides in on his lap, and  Wooyoung  wraps his arms around San’s middle and continues to play with the controller in his lap. 

“I talked to him last  week  but we had an argument, so I am letting it settle for a moment.”

“What did you argue about?”

San pauses, he isn’t sure that he really wants to explain or tell- it was never his business to begin with, but his friend was counting on him. 

“We...we argued about you.”

He could hear  Yeosang  suck in a deep breath, “What happened?”

“I don’t think he is pleased you’re out and about, but I told him to either date you or get over  i t.” To San’s shock, Yeosang’s laugh rang over the speaker, and he heard  Yeosang  slap a hand to his mouth. 

“I shouldn’t laugh.”  Yeosang  said with a serious voice, his voice high.

“No,” San said, his eyebrows high, “A laugh is better than what I was expecting from you- that could have gone a lot worse.” San could almost see  Yeosang  smiling through the phone, his voice gentle as the night that he thrived in. “It was a laugh of hysterics and shock- but then satisfaction. A lot of emotions ran through me  basically, but  I don’t think I could be mad at you  Sannie , you’re getting brave. You were just looking out for me, even if that meant arguing with your  best friend .”

“You’re my best friend too,” San whispered through the phone, his heart getting stuck in the tight windpipes of his throat; his lungs felt the contractions of emotions and something else...something like security.

“Yeah, but not like you two. Anyways, I am not worth arguing over, just go talk to him soon. I don’t think he can stay mad at you for too long.”

San felt  Wooyoung  shift from beneath his thighs and  Wooyoung  leaned forward, his breath fanning over San’s shoulder, “That’s what I told him too Sang.”

“Good. Now, you fool, go hang out with your  _ lover _ .”

_ Lover. _

That hit differently.

San’s thumb hit the red button on his phone and the phone flashed back to his  homescreen \- a picture of  Wooyoung  graced the screen. He couldn’t help but smile. 

“Are you going to smile over my beauty or call Hongjoong?”

San sighed, throwing his body back on  Wooyoung , and he curled into a ball on his boyfriend’s lap- he felt like purring like a cat. 

“I mean, I thought about it. But- god, he just got so angry.”

“You were all up in his business.” Wooyoung pointed out, and he quickly mashed his thumbs into the controller’s buttons furiously, cursing out when he missed the bad guy.

San thinks back to  Hongjoong’s  words last night. 

_ ”You _ _  know what? I admit it. It is driving me fucking crazy that he is out there with someone else- but I am not mad at him. Don’t even think that. I am mad at myself- I-it would be unfair for me to get angry with him for something that I caused.” _

San wants to understand, he really does. If  Hongjoong  was not mad at  Yeosang , then why did he take it out on him?

It reminded him of his mother in a way, San supposed. She always said she was never  _ mad  _ but when she would throw his stuff out in the yard without any warning, or when she would smash all of his phones- it was hard to believe her. Of course,  Hongjoong  was nothing like his mom, she was...her own special person.  Hongjoong  was still... _ Hongjoong. _

If San was sure of anything in this damn world, it was that Joong and  Yeosang  belonged together. From the moment he knew them, it was like a package deal that came with the $12 membership- you are guaranteed the product. 

_ “ _ _ San had noticed in the way they were in middle school and  _ _ Hongjoong _ _  and  _ _ Yeosang _ _  linked pinkies on the playground. They always seemed lost in their own little atmosphere, ready for blast off.  _ _ Yeosang _ _  would smile at  _ _ Hongjoong _ _  when he would raise his hand smartly in class, earning him a golden star from the teacher.  _ _ Hongjoong _ _  would smile at  _ _ Yeosang _ _  when he would get compliments in choir, resulting in a big golden star pinned to his shirt too. They would shine brightly with their star rays winking at the blue sky. _ _ ” _

San supposes they have always had a slow burn, taking their time letting the world turn. San was just scared that the world would spin and twirl around so much that  Yeosang  and  Hongjoong  would get dizzy and inevitably lose their way to each other. It was like twirling someone over and over and over and over again, then pushing them  forwards  with a blind-fold on. Not even the galaxies could fix this one. 

One of the worst things for San was to see someone not  accomplish  something that was just,  _ meant to be.  _ Maybe that  was a conflict in itself because if something was meant to be then it should work out, technically speaking, universally speaking- but reality was harsh. San always said to never keep hope because it was the one thing that damaged and ruined everything. Hope for better. Hope for change. Hope was evil, it only got your hopes up for hope. If that even made sense. 

San really thought the world would be cruel if it pulled  Yeosang  and  Hongjoong  apart. San hoped, dare he say, that they would at least end up in each other’s life. Some people coexisted so beautifully, a twinkle of bells rang with every step , and a ribbon unfurled in the wind as they spun together underneath the cerulean sky. San thinks that if anyone deserved to be together, it would be those two.

San hadn ’t forgotten them as they grew up from children, to teens, to young adults- he remembers n otic ing  in the way they were young and Yeosang and  Hongjoong  would whisper of twilight underneath their blankets that  were covered  in race cars that zoomed off the blanket and into the sky.

San thinks that he would never forget the two.

One could argue that if things were meant to be then they would work out and that was just “fate” or whatever. Was it fate that he was destined to end up poor and lacking parents? Was that someone’s idea of fate.

San really had to think about that.

It was fate that he met  Wooyoung , so he supposes that he shouldn’t be so bitter at the forces that took the reins of the universe and cosmos. 

But  _ god _ , life was so  unfucking  fair. It was like life liked to shit on young adults and their dreams- which San thinks there isn’t anything more saddening than seeing a dream fall through. His own dreams were undefined and unmapped in his destiny, but  maybe with  a little guidance he could draw them out or create some sort of treasure map that would lead him to the ultimate reality of happiness. That, although, was a delusion within a delusion. 

San’s mom , after all, had  always told him that he wasn’t ever going to amount to anything, nor was he ever going to escape the town. She had scoffed at his homework, scoffed at his acceptance letter to FU and had even burned it.

Wooyoung  had said that she was just scared of him leaving her like everyone else in her life.

“I need to fix this.” San said, twisting back around to face Wooyoung. 

Wooyoung  sighed and he put this game controller to the side and he spun San around to face him, and San’s legs were on either side of Wooyoung’s strong thighs.

“Look,”  Wooyoung  began,  booping  San on the tip of his nose, “I think things might work themselves out here. It isn’t your responsibility to fix this- no matter how bad you want to. Hell, even I want to march over to Hongjoong’s and knock some sense into him.” Wooyoung mused.

“-but, I won’t.” He said, wrapping his arms around San, bringing their faces closer. 

“I think you should talk to Hongjoong, but not about Yeosang. Talk to him like you regularly do, I dunno, be bros or whatever.”

“ _ Bros-”  _ San began but __ Wooyoung  shushed him with a finger that was layered in rings and he raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, bros. Do what you do best, San. Be a friend.”

San let out a  long drawn  out sigh and he threw himself over Wooyoung’s shoulders, resting his head in the crook of his boyfriend’s neck.

“Why is life so hard?”

“No one said it was easy.”

“For the love of God,  Wooyoung , stop quoting Coldplay.”

“I can’t, it is in my blood or something.” He mused, looking up at the white ceiling, a sparkle in his eyes.

San felt like kissing him- so he did.

Did San ever mention how much he loved kissing  Wooyoung ? It was like red orange sunsets that slipped over the sky like  silk, or  walking down a street that smelled of rain and blooming perfume.  Wooyoung  was the embodiment of sexy and  _ slow _ . 

Everything in San’s life felt fast and San never had time to stop at the corner of the street and hold the post to catch his breath- no, there was never time for that. San was constantly running from something, but he wasn’t sure what it was yet. Maybe the weight of adulthood?

It was just a guess.

Their mouths met in a slow manner, and San felt his eyelashes flutter like delicate butterfly wings in the southern wind.  Wooyoung  took his time in tilting his head and letting his bottom lip slip underneath San’s and he took his time in the way that his tongue traced patterns into his mouth.  Wooyoung’s  lips were always so soft.

Wooyoung  in general was just  _ soft  _ in opposition to his demeanor.  Wooyoung  on the outside looked edgy with his eyeliner rimmed eyes and black t-shirts, but you could find traces of downy pillows into his eyes and into the lines of his cheeks. If one were to poke  Wooyoung  he might just  explode  and spill out rose petals through the pores of his soft skin. 

Wooyoung  hummed into San’s mouth and his hand grazed his jaw, pulling his face even closer to his.

“Your lips are soft.” Said  Wooyoung  against his mouth. Wooyoung slipped his hands underneath San’s shirt and he nuzzled into his neck.

“Funny,” San breathed, “I was just thinking the same thing about yours. They remind me of rose petals.”

Wooyoung  pulled back and he let himself push a strand of hair out of San’s face. “You have a weird way of making me more beautiful than I am.”

“Who told you that you weren’t beautiful? I am going to beat them up.” Said San, punching the air.

Wooyoung  rolled his eyes and he playfully smacked San’s ass, “Me, idiot.”

“Tell ‘me’ to meet me in the parking lot at 2am. It is on sight.”

Wooyoung  laughed his signature squeak and he rested his head on his shoulder, smiling up through his eyelashes. “You are so-  _ so- _  so...?”

“Hysterical.”

“Yes,”  Wooyoung  giggled, “That was the exact word I was looking for.  _ Hysterical _ .”

San shrugged, “It is truly a curse to be this funny, I know it is hard on you having competition and what-not.”

Wooyoung  paused, his hands slowing their movement from rubbing circles on San’s back. “Remind me why I love you?”

And wow, if that didn’t make San the happiest person on the planet, he didn’t know if anything was ever right in the sense of things. 

“Because. You love me.”

“Right.”  Wooyoung  said, a soft smile crawling up his lips, tugging on the corners like doves. “Because I love you, indeed.”

San smiled back at him, tucking a piece of  Wooyoung’s  hair behind his ear, only for it to fall back into place, and he leaned in close. 

“Do you know why I love you?” San said, his eyes staring straight into Wooyoung’s.

“Why?”

“Because. I love you.”

It was as simple as that.

*

San supposes today was just for having conversations, because he found himself at his mother’s doorstep. 

Or, well- her door. The doorsteps had been long gone and had rotted away with time. There was no telling how old San’s house was in comparison to the houses just two blocks away. He supposes that it was probably older than the local courthouse.

He wasn’t for sure if he needed to walk in or just knock like a stranger or an old acquaintance. Was there a rule or timer for how long it took to break a bond with someone. Was there even a bond to begin with?

Damn.

San decided to knock.

He really wasn’t sure why he was here- it had been months since he had last been home. He was on his way to  Hongjoong’s  just to talk and make  amends  but he had found himself telling Wooyoung to stop in his old neighborhood. Could San really call this place home? What was a home?

The closest thing San ever felt like was home was  Honjoong’s ,  Yeosang’s , or  Wooyoung’s . San was beginning to think that was a privilege though, because who could say that they had three homes to go to when things got overwhelming? So be it- San was rich in love and homes and by god if his mom was going to ever ruin anything for him again.

But standing outside of his ‘home’ felt horrible. In fact, he felt like shit. Had he really lived like this at one point? Trash  was scattered  around the yard like whirlwind of bad ideas and trouble in the neighborhood, windows were cracked like his family, and the inside of the house was dark. 

San heard heavy footsteps and his stomach felt like it was flipping with every drag of each movement. 

San’s mother opened the door.

It had been a long time. 

San wasn’t sure if he was hoping that she looked better or that she wouldn’t even be home. Or exist.  Maybe he  was hoping that she would be dead.

Their eyes met, but he  was only met  with a blank stare. Her zombie eyes, as he used to call them when he was younger. 

“ _ My mom has zombie eyes.” _

_ Mrs. Young looked at him, her wrinkles forming deeper into her skin, “Is that why she is dead in your picture, Sannie?” _

_ He nodded happily, she understood!  _

_ “Yes. That is why she is dead, because she already looks dead anyways.” _

San had never felt ashamed of where he grew up- because it was part of him. Money was just money and it wasn’t a big deal to be poor because that was how life worked. If anyone had a problem with it, or ever made fun of San, he just reminded himself that they had a poor show of character and that it would come back to bite them in the ass. San knew that wasn’t a realistic way of thinking of things and that  _ maybe _  karma  didn’t actually exist- but it helped him cope.

But in this moment, he was ashamed for  Wooyoung  to even see any of this. 

Wooyoung  had wanted to get out with him but San had just told him to stay in the car. He didn’t think he could handle  Wooyoung  seeing any of this. Any of who he used to be before he left. That was old San, someone he wanted to bury alongside his mother who had zombie eyes and cold fingers to match. 

San turned away from his mother and he met the eyes of  Wooyoung  who sat in the car chewing on his fingernails- a habit he had when he was incredibly anxious. 

“Who is that?” 

San whipped back around to see his mother, who still had blank eyes, but her mouth had moved so he assumed that it had to be her speaking. It was only the two of them anyways.

San’s mouth was dry. After not seeing her for months, that was all she had to say?

San was surprised that he found disappointment, a part of him wanted her to be better. To say that she missed him. 

“Wooyoung.”

“Is that your boyfriend?” She asked, drawing up a cigarette to her mouth. San watched the cherry light up at the end and ignite rose red like dying flowers. 

San shifted his weight to the other side of his body and he hugged his middle tighter, “Yes?”

She nodded, “Seems about right.”

Whatever that meant.

She flicked the ashes over her shoulder allowing them to fall to the kitchen floor behind her in a heap. San imagined them floating down like soft feathers, or volcanic ash that drifted in the air lazily after an explosion, in constant hover. He imagined them being infinite.

“What brings you here now?” She asked, inhaling deeply once more on her cigarette. Her eyebrows raised up after the posed the question.

His stomach flipped. 

“I don’t know.” He said, and he was being honest. It was an impulse. Something was telling him that it was the right movement, the right moment. 

San had not had many moments of absolute certainty, but this was one of those times where he knew it was correct: free from error, in accordance with fact or truth. 

An accordance.

San was absolutely certain, or correct when he kissed  Wooyoung , when he went to Hongjoong’s, when he hung out with  Yeosang . Those were the moments that counted. Hell, when he even applied to college. He liked things that meant stability. 

Talking to his mom wasn’t stability though, so he knew it was odd that he found himself certain and assured.

“It was nice of you to visit.” She said, her eyes still blank. San found himself sad for a moment when he saw that she was getting thin. He wondered if she had eaten today.

His eyes narrowed- that was suspicious.

“What? You don’t believe me?” She asked, her eyebrows furrowing together creating wrinkles on top of wrinkles. He imagined smoothing them down for her like he used to and bringing her inside and whipping something up for her to eat. Even if it was just an old can of beans- anything would have been nice.

“No.” San put it bluntly, but then he found himself cringing, waiting for the glare, and in some cases, the smashing blow of the hit.

“Well you should. I have been taking my medicine.”

So that was why she seemed “okay” or decent. 

“That’s nice.”

She  nodded , her eyes lighting up brightly for the first time since he had seen her. “Yes! I feel a lot better.” She kept nodding, her fingers shaking from holding up the cigarette. She kept nodding, and nodding, and nodding, and- nodding.

San looked at her, taking in her gaunt appearance and he felt himself smile sadly- she wasn’t taking her medicine, she was just on drugs, in her delusion. San thought that was sad- to be so far in a delusion of happiness that  her  happiness was just taking the proper medicine. That was the old her shining through, the old her that wanted to take her meds. 

“That’s great, mom.” He said, tiredly. He felt his eyes well up with tears- she really did deserve better sometimes. Her life was horrible growing up and now she was stuck in this cycle of pitifulness. He felt sorry for her. He felt the need to get her out of there. At the end of the day, she was mentally ill. She needed help that no one else could give her but a professional, and he felt the Old San rising up from the grave. He felt the Old San wipe off the grave dirt from his brow and ring the bell at the door. 

_ “Aren’t you going to answer it?” _  Graveyard San asked, his eyebrows pushing together in worry, the Old San wanted good for his mom. 

“It is, isn’t it?” She asked, stubbing out the cigarette on the dirty door frame with a dull smile, her hair fluttered from the wind blowing in from the North, and for a moment she looked like the mom he used to know in her good times. She has never been perfect, but neither has San. 

“Are you going to bring your boyfriend in?”

“No, I think we were just about to leave.”

Her eyes grew large, “Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

She did the nodding thing again and she kept nodding. And nodding. And nodding. And nodding.

“Okay! Come see me soon, Sannie!”

She scrambled in for a hug, her thin body poking San in the ribcage and elbows. It was like her dead body had just risen from the grave beside San.

“ _ Aren’t you going to answer it?” _

San nodded, smiling dully back at her, “Yeah. I will.”

*

The car was silent on the way to Hongjoong’s.

Wooyoung  kept glancing at San, his fingers tapping nervously on the steering wheel when he wasn’t alternating looks at him.

_ Tap. Tap. Tap. Taptaptap. _

“So,” __ began  Wooyoung  hesitantly, his voice elongating the  _ o. _

“She was on drugs.”

“Ah,”  Wooyoung  said, biting his bottom lip and turning on his blinkers to take the right turn. He paused at the stop sign and looked over at him.

“She hugged you. That was  kind of weird , wasn’t it?”

San looked back at him, “Yeah- that was definitely weird. I think she has finally fucking lost her marbles,  Wooyoung .”

Wooyoung  shook his head, pressing the car forward on the rood and looking back in his review mirror, adjusting it to the way he wanted.

“I just think she needs help now.” He said, with another small glance over at him.

_ Tap. Tap. Tap. Taptaptap. _

_ “ _ She has always needed help, but I don’t think anyone ever cared about her enough to get it for her. She was horrible to everyone when was sick and I think people didn’t want to put up with it so they just- left her. Like I left her,” replied San, tightening his grip on Wooyoung’s hand that was resting on the center console. Wooyoung squeezed back.

“That is a tough one, San. She is sick and she does need help. I think a lot of people forget that people who have mental illnesses can’t help a lot of it, and if they could  change  they would. If only it were that easy, huh?”

San nodded- god, he was so fucking grateful for  Wooyoung .  Wooyoung  didn’t  immediately  start bashing her like everyone else, he seemed to understand why it was so hard for him to let go of her completely. How do you let go of someone who is bad for you, when they don’t even want to feel that way? How do you let go of someone who wants to get better?

“San.”

“Hmm?”

“You’re a good person, okay? You’re not a bad son like you think you are- you are just barely a young adult that didn’t know what to do at the time. How were you supposed to get help for her when you didn’t have any money, any resources? You weren’t even of age to own a house for crying out loud! Don’t beat yourself up over things that you can’t control.”

San breathed out a shaky breath, his fingers felt numb.  Wooyoung  squeezed life back into them with his fiery fingers and saccharine kisses that brought his cells back to surface. 

“I can help her now, can’t I?”

“If you wanted to. I think she would need to be  hospitalized  for  while  and then maybe some rehab.”

San looked over at  Wooyoung  and brought their hands that were joined together to his lips and he kissed  Wooyoung’s  knuckles one at a time. He let his lips linger. 

“I am sorry for this drama-”

“Drama? Baby boy, this isn’t drama. This is your life, this isn’t something you need to put on a low shelf.”

Wooyoung  was right- as always.

“I still feel guilty, I guess, for making people listen and see my bullshit. I think people deserve normalcy- that's all I can ask of my friends.”

Wooyoung  looked thoughtful for a moment, and he bit his bottom lip, dragging it into his mouth. “I think,” he began, looking over at  Wooyoung  with his eyebrows high in his hair, “that you should let people take care of you. It’s the  _ least _  you deserve.”

San supposes Wooyoung was right once more.

San found himself sitting in  Hongjoong’s  driveway with  Wooyoung , looking at the red door. 

“Do you think he is still mad at me?”

At that time, San’s phone went off with a buzz and his phone screen lit up brightly in the dim cab of the car- it was Hongjoong.

 

 

_** joongie; 6:23pm  ** _

_** hey loser when are you coming over to come watch anime w me? ** _

 

 

San read the text out loud and Wooyoung giggled into his hand, "I don't think you have to worry about him being mad at you. Just like Yeosang said, I don't think he could ever stay mad at you for too long."

 

 

_** san; 6:24pm ** _

_** what if i told you that i was in your driveway right now? ** _

 

 

San saw the typing bubble appear immediately.

 

 

_** joongie; 6:24pm ** _

_** That's the sexiest thing i have ever heard ** _

 

 

Wooyoung rolled his eyes.

 

 

 


	10. Darling I'm just tryin' to tell ya

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> San thinks that his friends know him best- and they do

San wasn't sure what to say when Hongjoong told him that he was going to ask Yeosang out.

"I think I am going to do it."

San raised an eyebrow and Wooyoung next to him spluttered a, " _Right now_?"

Hongjoong nodded enthusiastically, "Yes. Right now."

San let out a panicked laugh and he stood up to face Hongjoong who looked absolutely blissed sprawled out on the couch, a joint in between his thumb and pointer finger to match. The smoke lazily floated from it like loose balloons and he smirked. 

"Why not now?"

"Uhh, maybe because you're under the influence of, I dunno,  _weed_."

Joong scoffed and he sat up straight to face San, his eyes wicked. "I think that I must do it right now. I think it is perfect timing."

San wasn't sure why he was panicking at the thought of Hongjoong bravely asking Yeosang to be his "forever and ever bro" but he felt his stomach twist and turn. Wasn't he just thinking about how cruel the world would be if it didn't allow Hongjoong and Yeosang to date, or even be  _involved_ in one another's life? They were destined to be, in San's opinion, but for some reason it just made him squirm. How would Yeosang even react?

Wooyoung spoke for San, "How would Yeosang even react, Hongjoong? Do you know if right now is the best time?"

The boy on the couch rolled his eyes, confidence blooming from his shoulders and he took a long drag off the blunt. He seemed to be thinking about it, but San and Wooyoung definitely knew better- Hongjoong never seemed to think about his actions. San had once described him as fearless- a soul of wit and brevity. He wasn't a man of too many words, he liked to be concise and get his point across, and well- if he was going to ask Yeosang out, he was going to do it with brevity.

"Why would it not be a good time? Didn't Wooyoung basically ask you out when he was high?"

And yeah, Hongjoong was right. 

San opened his mouth, a breath of air escaping- not really knowing how to reply to that particularly.

Luckily, Wooyoung was always there to speak for him.

"I also asked him out when he wasn't mad at me, nor was he my past side thing."

Hongjoong paused, the blunt now smaller than half of a pinky finger- the end was tipped an angry red that was slowly burning down into nothing. San liked to compare it to Hongjoong's confidence that was slowly withering down into nothing bust ash and resin. 

Fitting.

" _Ouch_ ," Hongjoong murmured gripping his chest. "Was that necessary?"

"Yeah," San said leaning forward on his elbows to push himself even closer to Hongjoong (maybe if he was close enough, the words would amplify and catch in his brain)- Wooyoung rubbed circles into his back, and San watched as Hongjoong's eyes followed the movements.

San began once more, "Listen, I think you might want to talk things out at first, ya know. I think it would be pretty insulting to Yeosang's intelligence just to treat him like a fuck and then ask him out because you feel like you have him at your fingertips and there would be no possible way he could resist. Yeosang isn't stupid."

Hongjoong glared at him, pausing the anime on the screen with a scowl- and he finally looked like he was thinking. Wooyoung and San turned their heads towards each other almost comically- the two being in sync with one another. 

"I messed up didn't I?" Hongjoong asked, his words soft.

They were all silent for a moment, the anime now turned off caused the room to feel even emptier- not to mention that Yeosang was no where to be seen.

"How long has it been since Yeosang has been over?" San asked, fiddling with the rip in his jeans. He didn't want to look at Hongjoong when he was feeling vulnerable- for some reason it was hard to see Hongjoong like that, it was hard to see someone he always thought of as strong, be soft. Be weak. But, San didn't really want to use that word. Right- weak wasn't the right word. Maybe, he could use  _open_. Hongjoong was split open like the creak of a shed door that had been ripped from the storms anger, he was open as the hum of butterfly wings that expanded to take flight into the South. 

San forced himself to look at his best friend, and he forced himself to be okay with Hongjoong's moment of vulnerability, even though it pained him to see. 

San remembers when they were younger and Hongjoong would be the one to wipe the tears off his face with his hands, not caring if they got wet, and he would hug San with a gentle smile only for him to see.

_"Sometimes, San, you have to get up. You have to get up and deal with things because if you just sat around and thought about how miserable you are, you are not going to grow. Stop letting people have control over what you want to do or how you want to feel. Be your own person and take charge."_

Hongjoong, the sweet, golden, caring Hongjoong that thought of everyone else besides himself all the time. The one who would let people have his bed, the one that would hug everyone goodbye before they left, and the Hongjoong that loved Yeosang just a little extra more than the rest. 

Yeosang and Hongjoong's golden stars pinned on their shirts winked in the sunlight and they coexisted so beautifully. Hongjoong once told San that he was golden but San thought Joong was the one that deserved to hear that. 

Hongjoong was  golden , bright, beautiful, and hopeful.

_ San wondered how such genuine humans existed in a world so cruel, he wondered how they had hope.  This hope that kept them driving and moving forward. A  golden  flicker of a flame  being blown  out on a birthday cake, a  golden  light washing over them as they stayed up all night until dawn brought her rays to wash over them.  Golden  would shine in their eyes when they would laugh, their  golden  hands clapping together. _

"I think that you may have messed up," San said, chewing on his thumbnail nervously, Wooyoung looked at him in surprise. Hongjoong looked caught off guard too. 

"But, I think you can fix it though. It is not impossible, you two will always work it out."

"You seem so sure." Hongjoong said. Doubt was shining in his eyes and he looked hesitant, like he was afraid to even speak. Hongjoong wasn't sure.

How is San supposed to explain that he knew Yeosang and Hongjoong were meant to be without sounding absolutely nuts or like some philosophical oracle in an attic? He might as well stand up and look at the wall and profess in a loud voice, " _You two were meant to be together forever because you're bound by destiny and the gods of fucking!_ "

Wooyoung replied, "I am even sure of it. Why wouldn't it work out?" San was impressed at the confidence in Wooyoung's voice.

Hongjoong chewed on the sides of his thumb and his body curled up into a tiny v-shape that made him look even smaller than he already was. Hongjoong looked out the window and he chewed on the sides of his thumb more, obviously deep in thought- about the worst.

"Because I am not even sure that we can keep a relationship, because I am horrible in relationships. I can't even commit to myself half of the time- do you think Yeosang deserves someone who is scared of just simple dating?"

And if that wasn't the sweetest but most disgusting thing he had ever heard. 

"You're an idiot sometimes, you know that right?"

Hongjoong looked at San with narrowed eyes, "What is that supposed to mean?"

San stood up and he plopped himself next to Hongjoong and he threw his arms over his thin shoulders, his grin wide like the cracked next to him.

"You care about him, you're  _scared_ of a relationship with him specifically because you care so much, Hongjoong. It isn't a bad thing to have strong feelings because these have been harboring up inside you for a long time now, haven't they?"

Hongjoong looked up at San through his wet eyelashes and he blinked slowly, "Yeah. They have."

"If you don't try, how will you ever know? How will you ever know what it was going to end up like if you never even gave it the chance?"

Wooyoung and San made eye contact from across the couch, and Wooyoung shot him a soft smile, his eyes as dazzling as the evening. As wondrous as Civil Twilight.

 

 

 

 

+

 

 

 

 

Seonghwa and Jongho stared at Wooyoung jaw-slacked.

"Wait-" Seonghwa spluttered, his eyes wide, "You talked to your mom?"

San and Wooyoung were lazily sprawled across Wooyoung's bed, and Jongho and Seonghwa sat opposite of them on the bean bag chairs that sat against the bedroom wall. Well- Seonghwa was sprawled across both bean bag chairs with his long legs dangling over the fluffed sides while Jongho sat on the office chair. He was currently swiveling it around childishly until San had dropped the news. Or bomb, you could say.

Seonghwa and Jongho had insisted that they come over and San was a bit salty when he told Seonghwa that he could bring his  _girlfriend_ along too, since he was just so "busy" with her. 

_"You idiot,"_ Seonghwa had complained over the phone, _"That is why we broke up. She never let me hang out with my friends and I missed you guys. I had to miss so many party nights because she wanted me to just watch movies and watch her do her stupid homework all the time. Who even takes summer classes, San? Who?"_  


Seonghwa and Jongho had came in to the apartment with their arms full of alcohol, _"We deserve a fun night of just us bros."_ Jongho had raised a bottle of vodka high into the air, narrowly missing the ceiling fan, and he cheered, _"I brought alcohol!"_

Jongho stopped spinning and he raised one singular eyebrow. "When?"

"Like three hours ago?" San said softly, wincing. 

"Still fresh, huh?" Seonghwa inquired while putting his phone on the floor beside him, getting ready to listen with all ears. Jongho did the same and he sat his phone on the desk, scooting the chair to the foot of their bed.

"So, how-?"

"-did it go?" San finished for Seonghwa, stroking Wooyoung's forehead absentmindedly with his lips quirked up in an almost smirk.

San hummed and looked up at the ceiling and he felt Wooyoung looking at him the entire time.

"I suppose it went okay. Like- it could have gone better? But maybe that's asking for too much."

Seonghwa scoffed, "Asking-for-too-much. You're too kind."

Wooyoung nodded from beside him and he rolled over San, pecking him on the lips. "Isn't that what I tell you all the time?"

"Maybe." San said, his eyes narrowing in.

San continued his story and he filled them in on what exactly happened, wanting to skip over details- but he didn't. He needed to tell his friend's more, they  _asked_ him to tell them what was going on in his life. Seonghwa had complained before that he felt like San just listened to everyone else's problems and never expressed his. Wooyoung had said that he wasn't wrong.

It was just hard to say how he felt- it was like he was asking for  _pity_ and that was the last thing he ever wanted, and it felt like how could anyone care about his personal problems?

Wooyoung had shook his shoulders, pulling him close so that their noses were touching and he looked him deep in the eyes. "For the love of Christ, San, why is it so hard to believe that people love you, that you are  _loved_. What is so hard about that?"

Maybe that was one thing Wooyoung would never understand due to the fact that he grew up with love, with love that was consistent. Not to say that Hongjoong's and Yeosang's mothers didn't love San with their whole heart but it wasn't- it wasn't...his own family at the end of the day. It was his own mom that was supposed to love him, supposed to hug him when he felt sad, supposed to kiss his forehead when he got a bad grade. Yeosang's and Joong's mothers had done that for him and that was something he was so grateful for.

Hongjoong's mom always let her warm angel hands grace over the spine in his back with soothing parallel lines, and sugary cookies were scooped into his mouth when he looked sad. Yeosang's mom had paid for a field trip once and didn't even bother him about it, she never even asked for that money back even though it would have helped her. San hadn't even asked her to do that, he was just not going to go. Yeah, he would have had to sit at home on his creaky "bed" and just watch the cars pass by, but she had slapped a lunchbox in his hand one morning and told him to have a nice day at the museum. 

Hongjoong's mom had always taken him to the doctor when he had needed it and she always told San comforting stories on the way there. She talked about her childhood and struggles and then she would let San speak- and she would listen. It was like her words could coax out the things that San found unspeakable. It was crazy how comfortable he felt in a home that wasn't even his, they made it feel like his own. 

Both were angels and didn't even know it. It pissed San off how the best people deserved so much better lives than they got served with. Some people get the shit-end of the stick and that was not  _fair_.

San had always thought of their moms as silver belled laughs, warm socks that slipped over the soles of feet, and blushing cotton candy that pooled on sticks of happiness. They were everything and anything nice, anything  _happy_. San had wished that they were his mom too. When he was younger he used to wish that they would all three become friends and they would drink juice together on the back porch with sunglasses atop their heads, and maybe they would gossip about the neighborhood ladies that were having husband troubles. He used to picture his mom laughing along, her zombie eyes gone, and he would imagine her playfully punching Yeosang's mom's arm and giggling her silver belled laugh too.

It was just a stupid fantasy of normalcy, but even at his age, he would sometimes still picture it. He would picture his mom with a full belly and a life full of friends paired with sunny days that echoed the giggles of the warmest season of the year. 

 

But he didn't think that was ever going to be possible.

He really needed to stop pitying himself.

He was brought back to the present by Jongho, who had abruptly stood up. The office chair rolled backwards and bumped into the desk that was in the direct line of its path- Seonghwa winced at the sound.

"I have an idea." Jongho said, his hands resting on his hips and he turned to face Seonghwa who was looking at him with raised eyebrows. He turned back to face Wooyoung and San who were still sprawled in the bed and he pointed a finger at them, his voice loud. "San, you are going to live your life."

Wooyoung spluttered, "What do you think he is doing right now?"

Jongho rolled his eyes like it was obvious and like the rest of them were idiots. "Yes, San is technically living, fools.  _But_ we are going to get him to focus on himself- only him. San-" He brought his finger back to him, "-are you going to have your mother hospitalized?"

That was a big question- a question San himself had been pondering. He knew it was a good plan, she would be safe, she would be fed, she would be on regular meds- what was the wrong in it? He knew that it was simple and the best option for someone in her state, but something in him just didn't  _want to_. God- he knew how stupid that was but his body was screaming  _no_.

"I don't know."

Jongho looked at him, his eyes soft. "San, my father used to be really sick too." He looked uncomfortable for a moment and his body suddenly looked like it was holding the weight of a thousand worlds on his shoulder blades and the crown of his head. His body language was showing the pain of the past.

"He- he struggles with bipolar disorder too, or well- he used to? I dunno, he is getting better with help. But I am saying that it doesn't always have to be  _bad_." Jongho pulled the office chair back to him and he sat down gently, still looking uncomfortable. San never would have guessed Jongho had ever dealt with something like that, his life just looked so fucking perfect from the outside. He had a big beautiful house, a beach house, tons of friends, the pictures on his wall looked so  _normal_. San always knew Jongho was a strong spirit, but he never knew he had something like this behind him.  


"I was scared when my mom got him some help because it felt like a lost cause. I was scared that once he came out he would be the exact same and then I would have to throw away that  _hope_ I had been hanging onto for so fucking long. It feels like you're hoping for the best when they go in- they are getting help! You're just scared for the outcome, for the fact that they could come out and still be the exact same. It is okay to feel like that way- that is all I am saying, I guess..." Jongho trailed off, biting on his bottom lip nervously.

"...They're sick, yes, but our parents our human. I don't think they asked for the illness, they didn't ask to fuck up all the time. Trust me- my dad felt so fucking awful for the shit he had done and half of it he didn't even remember doing. It doesn't make it any better, because you still have to experience the shit that they put you through too, but I just want you to see both sides."

San heard Seonghwa sniffle.

Jongho smiled at Seonghwa who had tears running down his face and he continued. "I don't talk to my dad, I had to cut him off because he just hurt the both of us all the time and it was better for me, it was better for my mental health, but I still sort of talk to him. I keep a relationship that is healthy for the best of us, but I don't let myself become too close. If that makes any sense." He finished with a slight twist of his chair and he crossed his ankles, looking sad, but yet so happy. Jongho was content with his father, despite all of the bad things that had happened. He was okay with talking about it, okay with still talking to his dad, and okay with himself.

Dare San say, it made him  _hopeful_.

San didn't know he was crying until he felt Wooyoung's finger wipe underneath his eye gently, catching the tear that was slipping into the  great constellation. The one the Sioux talked about in their great stories, and the one they said combined with the star Rigel in Orion, and part of Eridanus the  river .  Wooyoung's hands were the mighty streams that caught the tears of angels and Old San.

_ When all someone has ever known is the loss of  hope , the danger of letting happiness and things that were too good to be true into their life...well, it always felt like it was going to  be ripped  right from your hands that should have been closed into tight fists. _

That was what San thought, until Jongho had shown that all he had ever known was the loss of hope- but here he was doing the exact opposite of San. He didn't stop hoping even though it had always gone wrong for him, he began to hope even more. He let himself wish.

Would San ever be able to do that?

"San." Jongho's voice is soft. He leaned forward and he grabbed his hand, squeezing three times. "It is your choice of what you want to do. She will still have bad days, but she will also have good days with the right care. You can allow someone else to take care of her, you're not letting her go forever if you don't have to. If you want though, I get that too."

San felt tears well up even more with Jongho's words and he felt Jongho's arms wrap around him completely and he whispered in his ear. "It's going to be okay, I  _promise_." San felt heavy sobs wrack his body and he felt Jongho's own tears run and wet the shoulders and back of his thin t-shirt. They were both crying messes but San didn't want it any other way- he couldn't have asked for anything better in the moment. Here, right now, he felt the sliver of expectations and desire for certain things in his life crawl up his spine and rest at the base of his head. The shard of  _hope_ wedged herself into his heart and she began to grow with the flowers that were blooming. The damask print of flowers on the surface of his skin reached up his arms and wrapped their comforting petals around the blades of his shoulders. They were soft and warm.

"I know she needs help," San said, nuzzling his face deep and turning his face to the side to catch his breath, "-I just feel like I am abandoning her."

"You're  _helping_ her, Sannie." Wooyoung spoke, shifting forwards on his knees to rest beside Jongho and San. Seonghwa stood up from the bean bags, his face red and puffy.

"Can I stop crying? Can I please stop crying?" Seonghwa cracked, his voice shaking with his small laughs. San felt himself let out a happy sob and he nodded at Seonghwa, "I felt that."

Wooyoung let out a tiny giggle and he smiled a sad sort of look at San and his hand reached out to brush the hair that had flopped onto his forehead off. "It isn't your obligation to do this, but if you feel like it is the best, then you do that."

San felt himself let out a shaky sigh and Jongho's hand rubbed soft circles on his back and he pulled San even tighter. Jongho spoke, "I know it is hard- no one ever thinks about us. The children who feel the suffering, the children who still love their mom or dad despite everything. Despite the yelling, the manipulation, the physical and verbal abuse, the nights spent awake worrying. I know what it is like, and yeah it isn't fucking fair but we have to deal with it. We have to continue on in our life, we aren't going to be like our parents, San."

San nodded, "I needed to hear that."

Jongho and San pulled apart and Jongho rested both hands on his shoulders and he shot him a watery smile. "People care about you, people care about us, and that is all we can ask for sometimes. There is no point in sitting down and thinking about how miserable we had it, we  _have_ to work harder than most people to accomplish our goals and our wants in life but that is okay. It is not impossible."

San bit his bottom lip and he nodded furiously, "You're right- you're so incredibly right that it shouldn't be possible." 

Jongho laughed and he pulled San in for one more hug and he squeezed him tightly with just the right amount of comforting pressure. It was like Jongho knew exactly how to comfort somebody and how to fix things. He wondered how many people Jongho has comforted when he himself was going through unspeakable things. 

As soon as Jongho let go of San, Seonghwa threw himself on San and he draped his long body across his. San was flat on his back and Seonghwa was on top of him, his tears soaking the collar of San's shirt.

"You just deserve so much better and you have been so  _strong_ and you have always been so  _kind_ to everyone while you were being shit on and you never failed to make others happy while you were suffering and you never complained to anyone and you managed to look so  _happy_ and be so upbeat for everyone around you even though we all knew you were hurting and-" his words were running together and he was speaking a million miles an hour. Jongho was smiling softly at Seonghwa again, and something was shining in his eye when he was looking at the long boy in San's lap. 

San was going to ask him about that later.

"-I love you tons, Sannie. I am so glad you're dating Wooyoung and that we got to meet even though we only hung out with Yeosang and Joong. I am so happy that Wooyoung finally got to talk to you like the horny boy he was." Seonghwa sobbed into San's shoulder and Wooyoung covered his mouth to stop his laugh from escaping. San hushed Wooyoung silently and he glared at him. Wooyoung pretended to zip his lips. 

San doesn't think he has ever heard someone sob the word  _horny_  but he supposes that there is a first for everything. Leave it to Seonghwa to be one that does though.

 

 

 

 

+

 

 

 

 

Wooyoung was mouthing kisses along the sides of San's neck when he suddenly stopped and he peeked up to look San in the eye.

"May I help you?" San asked, his cock hard and resting in Wooyoung's hand that had stopped moving.

"You should be a florist." Wooyoung said, his thumb going back to work and sliding over the head of his dick. He let a trail of spit fall out of his mouth and onto his hand that held him with a grip. San winced at how gross but yet how how the sight was.

"A florist?"

"We have had this exact conversation before, San." Wooyoung rolled his eyes and he grabbed the collar of San's shirt roughly and he pulled him forward for a deep kiss that brought tingles down to his toes and back up to his cock that was in his boyfriend's hand. He felt himself twitch.

_ “Well, whatever you do will be great. Whether it is blowing up a science lab, dancing, a florist, making music, you will be on top of it all.” _

_ “A florist?” _

_ “You know, the people who arrange, cut and sell flowers. It is very soft and San like. San-ness.” _

_ “I know what a florist is, I just never really thought about it.” _

_ Wooyoung  tossed the trash in the bin and turned back to San with confusion written across his features. _

_ “Really?” _

_ Wooyoung  hummed, “You have always  had an obsession with  flowers- or I guess a certain liking towards them. You read all of those plant books, your phone case is  literally a  giant ass flower-” San looked down at his patterned  Mugunghwa  case, “and you have a giant flower pillow.” _

_ San paused. _

_ “I never really noticed.” _

_ “I remember in high school you would draw little flowers on your white shoes.” _

_ “You noticed?” _

_ “ Mmm , they were cute. I always notice you San.” _

_ He felt himself flush the color of soft pink petals, and he cleared his throat. “Gross. But  anyways . Yeah, I have always liked them, but never really considered a career out of it I guess.” _

_ " _ Oh, wait, I remember that." San said with a hiss. Wooyoung bit the skin of San's neck harshly and then he quickly licked his tongue over the spot for instant soothing. Wicked.

San ran a hand through Wooyoung's hair and he gripped him tight and brought him forth again to meet his mouth, their tongues meeting with an air of need but also softness. Wooyoung groaned and he ran his fingers up San's shirt with ease and something else.

"Can you fuck me this time?"

San moaned, " _Fuck_ \- of course, baby."

San's hands found the hem of his boyfriend's t-shirt and he pulled it off of him with one quick motion and tossed it to the side without any care. "By the way-" San said, nipping at Wooyoung's collar bones and unzipping his tight jeans. "-Why did you bring up the florist thing?" San got up and sat down at the end of the bed at Wooyoung's feet and he began to peel his jeans off for him. San felt ridiculous because his cock was free out of his jeans and underwear and it was just curving up towards his stomach. San only got halfway down Wooyoung's legs before the skin tight jeans got caught on his thick thighs.

Wooyoung looked down at the stuck jeans and back up at San. "Anyways, I think when college starts up again, which is soon, you should go in for Floral Design and business. You could start a florist shop, Sannie."  


San yanked harshly on the jeans and they finally slid down an inch or two more but then once more got stuck. San and Wooyoung giggled as San began yanking furiously. "I mean-" San started, pulling with all of his strength, "-I could do that. I think I feel like I can finally choose a major and not feel like I am ditching my mom forever. I think choosing one made it feel permanent."

The jeans gave way and San felt himself flailing backwards, almost falling off the soft edge of the bed that they were rolling around on. San gasped and clutched his chest, his heart beating rapidly, "Did I almost just fucking die because you decided to wear these ridiculous pants today?"

Wooyoung threw his head back and laughed his signature squeaks, "I wanted to look good for you."

San rolled his eyes and he kissed Woo's knees, then mouthing upwards and sucking tiny hickies into the soft flesh of his thighs that were spread apart beautifully for him. San hummed, "I will do that Wooyoung, maybe. It is a possibility."

Wooyoung looked content, "Good." He sat up on his elbows and he looked down at San from underneath his eyelashes, his eyes catching the light of the sun that was setting. "Now, fuck me, please."

"Of course."

San crawled above his boyfriend and he pulled him in for a sweet and slow kiss just for good measure- just because was about to fuck the life out of him.

Their lips met and San tugged on his bottom lip with his teeth and he let it slowly out of his grasp while his hands worked on pulling Wooyoung's underwear off his long legs. San tilted his head and their lips met again quickly, their breaths ragged. Wooyoung gasped into his mouth when San's hand found his cock and San took advantage of his open mouth and he kissed him wetly. Their mouths made a smacking noise in the quiet of the room.

"You sound pretty," San whispered, his hand speeding up. Wooyoung gulped and he let himself fall back on the pillows and San watched his chest rise and fall rapidly- he was incredibly turned on and ready for San to fuck him.

"It has been a while, huh?" San hummed, slipping the condom on and drizzling lube over himself. He let his hand lazily spread it around his cock as he watched Wooyoung tweak his own nipples. "You're not gonna prep me?" Woo teased.

"If I am fucking you, I already assumed you did, huh? That's why you were in the bathroom for a while, wasn't it?"

Wooyoung grinned as he spread his legs more as San aligned himself. "Maybe you caught me. I stretched myself and everything for you- I wanted to get straight to it."

San snorted and he grabbed the underneaths of Wooyoung's knees and he dragged him forward so their hips were basically flushed together. San let a trail of spit drop like Wooyoung did earlier and he watched it as it hit the base of Wooyoung's cock and slide down towards his hole. San brought more lube out and let it grace the surface of his boyfriend's ass. "Hard?"

"Do you even know me?" Wooyoung asked pushing his ass towards San's cock, his mouth showing impatience in the lines.

"Hard. Got it."

Wooyoung sighed in content as San pushed in- he felt himself groan in pleasure as Wooyoung let out a desperate high pitched whine that echoed through the room. " _God_ \- San. I missed getting fucked, we have to do this more." San definitely agreed as Wooyoung clenched around him and arched his back in his moment of high pleasure. He felt himself let out a pathetic moan at the sight of his boyfriend- Wooyoung's legs were spread wide and his lips were spit-slicked and red from the pressure of San's lips and teeth. Wooyoung's chest was flushed crimson and precum was leaking all of his stomach and pooling at the pit. San felt the urge to scoop it up with his finger off of his leaking cock and taste it. So he did.

Wooyoung cursed. "Somehow you get hotter and hotter. Is that fucking possible?"

San blushed- he would never get used to the praise that Wooyoung showered him in. He was constantly drooping compliments over his shoulders with the softness of a silk blanket and the weight of a thousand cars on him. 

"Shush." San said with a blush but Wooyoung only let a sly grin crawl up his face. "Oh you want me to be quiet, afraid of our neighbors hearing?"

"Wooyoung." San said exasperated, but he couldn't help but giggle, in his mind of course, because he was balls deep in his boyfriend. 

"Can you just fuck me already?" Wooyoung retaliated, pushing his hips down and bringing San's cock all the way in- San gasped at the feeling. 

Yeah, he could fuck Wooyoung, that was something he was really good at.

San's hips slammed into Wooyoung's and he started immediately letting out high pitched whines and moans. "Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck,  _San_." His breathing became labored as he was gasping for air as San was pounding into him like his life depended on it. Wooyoung's hair was bouncing at the impact and his hands were twisting around in the sheets with every thrust that brought him even closer to the headboard that sat at the top of their bed like a crow. It hit the wall each time San fucked into Wooyoung- their neighbors were going to be pissed. He hoped they weren't home. Wooyoung's voice grew in pitch when San let go of one of his legs and brought the other one over his shoulder, changing the angle. Wooyoung cussed and he pinched at his nipples as San slowed down his pace, now fucking into him slowly. Wooyoung's mouth dropped open and he let out a low groan this time.

"Jesus Christ-"  


"Nope, just Choi San."

Wooyoung let out a weak laugh as he looked down to see where their bodies were connecting and his eyes followed the way San's cock slowly eased in and out. The sounds of wet filled the air and Wooyoung grabbed at San's forearms that were above his head. "Right there." He gasped. San kept himself in the same spot as he repeatedly rubbed against his boyfriend's prostate- he felt Wooyoung's hole clench around him.

San felt himself nearing his orgasm and he sped up once more in surprise and Wooyoung let out a dry sob as San kept his focus on the same spot, despite the sudden change of pace. "Moremoremore-"

San gave him what he wanted and he gripped the tops of Wooyoung's thighs and pulled him flush against his own thighs and grinded down on him, swirling his hips in dizzying circles.

" _Oh-_ " he hiccuped. Wooyoung reached up to pull San in for a kiss and he pushed down on San's grinding. When they pulled apart San looked down to see Wooyoung's cock twitching- he was close. San moaned and sped up even more, if that was even possible at this point, and he gave one particular harsh thrust that had Wooyoung sliding up the bed from the force. He had always liked it rough and hard, he had always wanted bruises afterwards. Choi San wasn't one to deny his boyfriend.

Wooyoung came without any warning, the sweat on his forehead glistened as come streaked all the way up to his flushed chest. San watched in awe as come just kept spilling out the head of his cock- and spilling, and spilling, and spilling, and  _spilling_.

That sight alone was enough to make San come without any warning also and he gasped as his orgasm hit him like a freight train. 

Wooyoung whimpered underneath him as come spilled down the sides of his stomach and onto the sheets, his eyes squeezing shut and a single tear rolling down the soft flesh of his cheeks and cheekbones. San's hips stuttered and his boyfriend hissed at the sensitivity but he still rubbed his hands down the sides of San's arms as he got through the after-shocks of his orgasm. He felt his arms shaking above Woo's head and he pulled himself out before he collapsed on Wooyoung's sticky and sweaty body.

They both let out a breath of air at the same time and they gasped next to each other, their minds and heartbeats still racing from what they had been doing. Wooyoung was the first to speak, as always.

"Damn."

San gasped for air and he looked over at Wooyoung. "Indeed." 

 


	11. There's always been a rainbow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> San finally sees. There's always been a rainbow

Yeosang looked at San, one eyebrow raised.

“Let me get this right-” He began, finger in the air. They were sitting at Moomers, the afternoon sun going down in a slow, but timely golden haze. Yunho and Mingi had tagged along with the three and sat on either side of Yeosang. Yeosang sat opposite of Wooyoung and San, his back facing the window. The noon light had casted a glow over him, creating a halo that was soft against the faces of Wooyoung and San.

“-Hongjoong was going to ask me out?”

Wooyoung shrugged, “I mean, he looked pretty serious about it.”

San saw Yunho and Mingi make eye contact- worry in their faces. Yunho leaned forward resting his weight on his elbows and ran an anxious hand through his hair. Mingi saw the motion and he leaned back in his chair to extend him arm across Yeosang’s chair to reach for Yunho’s shoulder. The two shared another moment, not realizing San was their audience.

San looked back at Yeosang. “He was also in a mild state of panic but his body just told him it was confidence and-”

“Oh no,” moaned Yeosang, burying his face in his slender hands. His hair flopped over his fingers and he breathed in a deep breath. “Why does he do that? He does this all the time- he gets in this state of panic and he somehow just gets...gets so bold.”

“He is a Scorpio.” Mingi quipped. They all turned to look at the wide eyed boy- including Yeosang- he just shrugged. San rolled his eyes and he looked back at Yeosang to give him his attention. “I know, I am not sure why either.” Yunho looked at Mingi, his eyes narrowed, “And it is not because he is a Scorpion.”

“Scorpio.” Mingi corrected.

“He is an Aries, you must forgive him.” Wooyoung said, twirling his ice cream around with a spoon. Yunho tossed his dirty napkin his way, narrowly missing Wooyoung’s head.

“Can we please focus?” Yeosang asked, looking stressed. They put their attention back on the boy who was sitting still and straight- his eyebrows furrowed.

“I need advice.”

Mingi pursed his lips and he nudged Yeosang’s shoulder with an encouraging smile, a smile that seemed to rival the bright setting sun. Mingi tended to have that effect on people and the aura of the room. He always seemed like he was able to feel the room’s emotions and he always knew how to grasp it like bike handles. Mingi had a grip on reality and emotions. San had no doubt he would be a wonderful med student.

Wooyoung squeezed his hand underneath the table three times.

 _I love you._ /p>

“Honest advice?” Mingi asked with both eyebrows high on his face, shrouded by his long bangs.

“Always.”

“Do you like him?”

Yeosang paused. He seemed to be gathering his thoughts- “Yes.”

“Do you think he would treat you right?”

“I don’t doubt that he would.”

Mingi nodded and he leaned forward. “Do you love him?”

“Isn’t it a bit early to say that I love him if I have never even dated him?”

Yunho rolled his eyes and he chirped back, “You have been basically dating him your whole life, Yeosang.”

“There’s a difference,” Yeosang began, twirling his ice cream around in the neon pink bowl, “between habit and love. Am I comfortable, or am I in love? Can you really love somebody that you have never had a true relationship bonding with?”

Wooyoung seemed to think heavy on this and he started to speak slowly, “You know in the movies when the main character is in love with the other person, who has never given the time of the day?”

“Yes?”

“That is the difference. He has acknowledged you, he has confessed his feelings for you, he sees you. That, is the difference.”

Yeosang kept swirling his ice cream around and he bit his bottom lip, worry etching on his features. “I am comfortable with him- I know I am. He can be a habit, he makes me come over every night. Actually- he doesn’t make me. I come over there and if I don’t, we both know we miss each other. I think we are both habits, but comfortable habits. Yeah- comfortable habits.”

San chimed in again, “Don’t listen to what everyone else says- if you like him, Yeosang, then you like him. If you think that you can make it work, then you are a step ahead a lot of us. If you don’t try-”

“-how will you ever know.” Wooyoung finished for him, his voice soft.

Yeosang nodded.

 

 

*

 

 

San himself had a few strings that needed to be tied up like pretty satin bows that ribboned out from clouds, and he needed to secure them. Their tails flapped like erratic chords on a piano and they had staccatoed with every gust of wind that knocked the clouds unsteady. His mom was like that cloud in a sense and her pink satin ribbon tail was hanging limply in the wind. The blue of the sky was bright and almost promising. Yet- she remained looking down from the clouds.

San’s talk with Jongho had laid heavily on his mind and the ease and grace of the ribbon tails twisted and spun nightmares in his dreams. How did one fix somebody? San knows that Wooyoung would probably tell him, “That isn’t your responsibility.”

Yeah.

It isn’t, but that still didn’t change the fact that he couldn’t help how he felt. His mom needed help, he needed to get her help, and that was the only way things were going to change.

No, it wasn’t his responsibility, it wasn’t his job to take care of somebody, and especially somebody that hurt him. Somebody that had let their ribbons cut off his air.

San could try to paint a pretty picture with balloons, ribbons, flowers, and butterflies that flitted and fluttered through the wind. They might throw in a baby blue sky that whispered dreams of spring and morning rain but it was just a mere painting. A painting that didn’t hold any truth- as it was just a creation of something.

San wished that he could spit on the stupid flowers and balloons and lovely what-nots, just to reveal the blank canvas underneath. The blank canvas that was now muddy greens and blacks.

 

 

_“Can you confirm that name one more time?”_

 

“Choi Jiwoo.”

 

_“Done. Thank you.”_

 

 

San was sure that he made the right choice.

Wooyoung knocked into his shoulder beside him and he shot him his signature grin- the one that made the butterflies twist and faint. That one.

“How do you feel?”

San hummed, “Better?”

Wooyoung shifted and he wrapped his arm around San’s shoulders. They sat at Hongjoong’s- who looked pretty occupied talking on the phone. San could only guess that it was Yeosang from the way that Joong’s brows were pushed together in a state of stress. Hongjoong’s voice was soft on the phone though and he sat outside on the back porch with his head resting on one hand. San felt a flare of sympathy flow through him at the sight.

“You don’t sound so sure there.”

“No- I am. I am positive. I think I am just...”

“-scared?” Wooyoung finished for him, his head cocked to the side in a pretty tilt. San felt his eyes drop to his biceps that were soft against the cuff of his t-shirt.

“Yeah.” San finished lamely.

Putting his mom in the hospital was the right thing to do- he knew it. Even if it didn’t work, it was worth trying. Everyone had given up on Jiwoo, his mother, but not him. There was a time that he was sure that he would never see her again. There was a time he was positive that he hated her with all of his being- how could anyone love her after all that she had done?

“Because you know that people are shitty, you know that life isn’t fair. I think that since you know that life won’t ever be fair and that you can control who you want in your life- you have the power to not let it get to you. You’re healing too, San.”

San wasn’t quite sure how Wooyoung seemed to read his mind and know all of his deep and burning questions; Maybe that was how he knew he was truly the one.

“How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

Know me so well?

“Nothing.”

 

 

*

 

 

 

The haze of summer had passed by quickly and before San knew it, he was getting emails once again from university. He groaned and swiped away the notification- he didn’t want to think about it.

Seonghwa kicked his leg, “What is wrong?”

“College starts again in two more weeks.”

“Two weeks?” Jongho asked from beside Seonghwa, his hand resting on the boy’s lap. Seonghwa looked smug- San knew that they were together now and he really wasn’t sure how that happened. His friends were quite unpredictable sometimes.

Wooyoung had just shrugged when San had asked about the mysterious two. “I thought everyone knew?”

Leave it to Wooyoung to know anything and everything about anybody in this whole damn world.

“Yes, two more fucking weeks.”

“I thought you liked college?” Seonghwa said tilting his head in confusion. He took a deep drag out of his joint and coughed harshly. He fanned the smoke away from his face and he passed it to Jongho in disgust. Jongho took it gladly and took a drag without any hesitation, his lungs inviting the smoke in.

“I do. It’s just- just- I have to decide my major this semester.”

“That’s a good thing!”

Seonghwa elbowed Jongho, “Not if you don’t know what you want to do- like at all.”

San threw his head back on the top of the couch and he closed his eyes trying to summon peace. “I think I have an idea- but it just feels so stupid.”

“San, I don’t think any degree or job is stupid.” Jongho said, twirling the blunt around his thumb and pointer finger. “If you’re happy, what is the issue?” He always said things with a confidence that San envied, Jongho was always sure of himself. To him, things were black and white and there wasn’t an option of gray, nor of compromise for both parties.

The most colorful thing in the world is black and white, it contains all colors and at the same time excludes all.

“I- I was thinking about becoming a florist.”

Hwa and Jongho stared back at him, the same look on their face- blank.

San laughed nervously.

Seonghwa then leaned forward, confusion on his face. “And? What about that is stupid?”

“I dunno.”

“Right!” Jongho exclaimed, making everyone jump, “You don’t know what is stupid about it because it isn’t. You’re just insecure.”

Seonghwa’s eyes widened, “Jesus Christ, Jong-”

“I am not wrong. I do not take criticism.”

San rolled his eyes and ran a hand through his already messy hair, “He is right. Unfortunately.”

It was Jongho’s turn to look even more smug than before. Seonghwa narrowed his eyes at him in annoyance.

“Anyways,” Seonghwa said, “Why not go for it, declare a major to be safe. Then, you can always switch it. Worst case scenario that could happen is that you have to do an extra semester or two or something because you switched your major too much and lost some classes.”

Seonghwa had a point, as always. San knew he was right. God, were his friends always right? Was that even allowed?

San meekly scratched his head, “You think so?”

“Yes. San, you have your whole life to discover what you want to do and what you want to be.”

San agreed, yet, he didn’t. They were young adults blooming into the world with their different colors of personalities, beliefs, and backgrounds and they were going to soon be people that contribute to society- but that was the issue. Could they really just use their life to discover themselves when the world was pushing them to conform and just do something. They say that everyone just wants everyone else to be happy and they always say, “Find a job that makes you happy!”.

They are young adults that are expected to find jobs, to have children, to contribute to the economy and legal systems, they didn’t have “all of your life” to discover themselves. Or did they? Can one find happiness when they aren’t supposed to be looking for it?

San knew that life wasn’t that kind, but maybe that was just a pessimistic view on the topic of happiness though.

“You have a really funny thinking face,” said Seonghwa.

“Stop.”

“What are you thinking about?”

San shrugged, “A lot?”

“That is very...vague.”

“I am thinking about society.”

“Dear God, San.” Jongho said, exhuasted. He then smiled and leaned forward to pat San’s shoulder- “Be kind to the world San, you can only stay and live here once. Everything is all right now.”

Seonghwa nodded, “The world is not black and white, it is a whole fucking rainbow. It will all be alright.”

San thinks, for the umpteenth time, that they’re right. San supposes that he should have more hope for the world- as he can learn to balance being realistic and having hope. There is a healthy amount of both one can have.

 

_"There was something about the loss of hope that was quite damaging to one. There was definitely something about the way San felt when he realized that maybe, just maybe, he could not breathe anymore. The way his lungs flew on autopilot, splitting down the middle, creating wings. And the way weeds filled up his flimsy flyers, filled with dirt and spit, and the way he choked on it."_

_"When all someone has ever known is the loss of hope, the danger of letting happiness and things that were too good to be true into their life...well, it always felt like it was going to be ripped right from your hands that should have been closed into tight fists."_

_"There was never the phrase “There is always hope” allowed in San’s mind, because he knew it was unrealistic. People who hoped always had their dreams crushed. Their simple joys gone. You had to be realistic in life."_

_"His friends were golden, bright, and beautiful. San wondered how such genuine humans existed in a world so cruel, he wondered how such humans always had hope. This hope that kept them driving and moving forward. A golden flicker of a flame being blown out on a birthday cake, a golden light washing over them as they stayed up all night until dawn brought her rays to wash over them. Golden would shine in their eyes when they would laugh, their golden hands clapping together."_

_"It was easy to lie- almost too easy, for some. When all you do is dream, when you hope that you will never hope again, the process of webbing lies into the constellation of Caelum where he was the engraver’s chisel becomes second nature. San began to believe he was okay, that he wasn’t scribbling linocuts of his own name into a gravestone that sat by itself shrouded in fog and desolate croaks of broken wishes. He wasn’t good at feelings, so he just lied. It was always easier that way."_

 

San knows he is in a better place now with the relationship of hope- and he felt himself feel a little giddy at the fact. He has grown- so much this summer. So much that he could feel his outlook on life was completely shifted and thrown for a whirl on the merry-go-round that filled his metaphorical dreams.

“I felt the warmth that flowers must feel when they bloom through the snow, under the first concentrated rays of the sun.”

Jongho raised an eyebrow- “What’s that?”

“A quote I really like.” San said, a smile gracing his lips.

There was something beautiful in the way that humans helped one another, the pure genuine motivation behind things. That, that, was something San didn’t mind having hope in. The hope of humanity. He supposes there are worse things out there to have hope in.

They were becoming adults and learning that “life isn’t fair” but they have known that for a while now. They were going to become better than their past, they were going to break the cycle, not just scratch the surface of the thin glass that carried the weight of them. It was not going to shatter today.

The sky has finally opened.

 

 

*

 

 

“How is your mom doing?” Hongjoong asked, flicking through the channels on the shitty tv. He was met with static and distorted voices- Joong cursed and tossed the remote behind the couch.

Yeosang scowled and he grumbled, “You do realize that you have to pick that up later, and I am not going to be the one that does it for you.”

Hongjoong rolled his eyes, “Sure.”

“Pick it up.”

“N-”

“I said. Pick. It. Up.”

Hongjoong groaned and propelled his body forward, clearly for the drama and theatrics. Yeosang and San made eye contact- Yeosang winked.

“Anyways,” Yeosang continued, “Did you go and see your mom?”

San nodded, “Yeah, and I am a bit surprised.”

“Meaning?” Hongjoong asked, sliding back onto the couch, the remote in his hand. He handed over to a smug Yeosang who patted his thigh with content. San wondered how Hongjoong and Yeosang became even more whipped for each other, he didn’t even know it was possible.

Is that what he and Wooyoung looked like? For a moment, San had the decency to blush.

“Meaning,” San continued with Hongjoong, “That she is still the same, but coming down off of mania. It is definitely interesting. She really didn’t want to talk though.”

San felt embarrassed even talking about this- he felt like he was asking for sympathy.

“San.” Yeosang scolded, already sensing San trying to keep it vague. “It is okay to tell us, of course, if you’re feeling comfortable, but you are also okay to tell us this because we care about you. I know you, Sannie.”

San continued slowly. He took a deep breath. He was working on it.

“Okay, I am going to be realistic.”

Hongjoong let a soft smile stretch across his face, his doe eyes rather angelic. Maybe that was just San putting him in the best light constantly.

“I don’t think she will ever want to talk to me about the past- because she is still living in it. She has never truly wanted to talk before and I know I am not going to get closure like the rest of some people but all I can ask for is that I feel okay with her.”

Yeosang looked intrigued for a moment, and he leaned back. “San, I think you’re right. Incredibly right, actually. I think it has always been so hard for you because you know you will never get the closure between you two- not with her help anyways. It is the real world- and it can be mean and unforgiving.”

Hongjoong sighed, “God, it’s just so fucking unfair.”

“Guys, we have always known this.” San said. All three of them were silent for a moment. Yeah, they have known the world was unfair since they were young, since the age of being too young to be taught that particular lesson. That itself, wasn’t fair.

But who ever said that life was fair?

“I think it can be fair if I take control of it,” he replied with realization. “I can make it fair because it is my choice to leave her. That is fair. It is fair of me to keep her in my life too. These are all my choices, and all of her choices are hers. I can still visit her and love her, without forgiving her. That is a choice that is my own.”

Yeosang smiled weakly at him, the weight of the world on his shoulders since he was young. “Yeah, you’re right too. You always are, huh?”

“Funny, I could say the same thing.”

San knew this too, he knew that life was unfair and that he had to be realistic. Before, he thought that being realistic meant that hope was forever lost and the two couldn’t coexist. But, they could- they really, really, could. He wasn’t sure how he came to this conclusion. Maybe it was with the help of his friends, his beautiful and wonderful fucking friends. His group of people that listened, that cared, that were meant to be in his life.

Maybe it was also because of his boyfriend. His boyfriend that knew him the most, the boy who never once told San that he couldn’t achieve something. If anything, Wooyoung made San realize who he could be. The person that was hiding in his lungs, waiting to bloom and blossom with the flowers.

It was like Wooyoung had blossomed with him, like he had bloomed every color of the rainbow in all of his beauty and brilliance. He was the brightest rainbow out there. San wondered that if the light had hit Wooyoung just right that the transparency of his glass skin would refract and create a rainbow that shone on the wall.

San remembers as a child that there was one pretty thing in his house that he held pride in. He knew it was stupid- but he couldn’t help but hold pride in it. San’s mom had bought a door after she had broken it down in a drunken stupor and the door had a stained glass window that sat so high up that his fingers could barely graze the hard wooden edges.

He remembered he would wake up early in the bright mornings to see the rainbow that would shine through, his fingers dancing in the plethora of colors that danced in the beginning hours of the long day ahead. Sometimes San would imagine that a stage light was on him as he played in the rainbow and he would be able to hear the faint cheers of the people. They would cheer him on- because no one else would.

His creation of love in a place that was absent.

But Wooyoung created his own rainbow, and San was once more dancing in the love and cheers. This time though, the love was created for him.

Maybe it was his own self that helped him achieve understanding. His wonderful self that he had grown to love despite all of the scars, the bruises, and the hatred that brewed every morning and night when he would look into the mirror.

People are a lot like glass dolls; glass dolls are beautiful, crafted with the human hands of fragility, but they are easy to break when they are dropped from heights. Heights that may seem normal to some, but to the glass doll that peers down the shelf and to the cold and unforgiving ground before them- the distance becomes staggering. Humans are tiny, fragile, and often see-through when positioned in the right light with the right person- glass dolls too, become personified.

 

Self love was something that took lifetimes to work on, but San knew that although he was a glass doll, he could piece himself back together. He could stitch the glass with glue, sticky saccharine kisses that his boyfriend littered, the laughs of his friends that held his heart together, and the glue of his own hands gently caressing his body. His own hands that could create wonderful arrangements of flowers, create patterns and prints, his own hands that once danced in the door’s rainbow in his living room.

 

The door did not create a shadow, it created a boy behind it, the hush of a curtain sliding across the stage could be heard. A glass figurine that spun and twirled throughout space and time, their gentle laughter fueled by the plethora of colors that winked from the high window. The rainbow refracted and was weightless across his skin.

 

 

*

 

 

San and Wooyoung were lazily flopped on Woo’s bed, their limbs and legs were so tangled that San didn’t even know where to start if he had to get up. Sometimes, San didn’t know where he began and ended when he was in Wooyoung’s embrace- not that he was complaining.

Wooyoung’s soft hands were brushing back the hair on his forehead, and he was humming something that felt familiar, and almost visceral.

“We only have one week until college starts back up.”

“Mhmm,” San hummed, his eyes drifting closed as Wooyoung soothed him to sleep. San sleepily mumbled, “M’ gonna be a florist.” 

Wooyoung’s eyebrows shot up and his hand stopped pushing back his bangs. “San, that is great!”

San smiled and nuzzled deeper into Wooyoung’s shoulder, “Yeah, I feel like it is right. If it isn’t, I have my whole life ahead of me.”

Wooyoung hummed, his hum could be heard in his chest- like a cat. 

“That is very optimistic of you, I must say.”

San snorted and he slapped Wooyoung’s chest with his right hand, “Shut up. I know. Growth and what-not, blah, blah-” 

“-blah.”

“Exactly,” San said, rolling back onto his back, his neck resting in the crook of Wooyoung’s strong arm. He couldn’t help but give the muscle a little squeeze- as he still had the rest of his life ahead of him, he needed to get in as many squeezes that he could.

“I like the idea of taking every day one day at a time. It’s realistic and optimistic, isn’t it?” Wooyoung questioned, his eyes flitting back to San’s- his heart lurched. Wooyoung had that look in his eyes once again. The intensity, the shock of his eyes that were filled with something, with love. 

“Life is gonna suck, then you die. But if you don’t make the best of it, then that’s just a waste.” San mused, poking Wooyoung’s cheek.

With Wooyoung, San felt infinite. There were times where he was so afraid to love Wooyoung, to take that leap. He knew it sounded like every person ever with vulnerability issues, but there wasn’t any shame in that. There wasn’t any shame in being scared of getting hurt, was there? 

San couldn’t help but think back about when he first met Wooyoung.

San doesn’t really believe in that bullshit about love at first sight- because he had seen Wooyoung before. Wooyoung had seen him before. Nothing like this had happened before. He felt like a school girl over analyzing every move her crush that she swooned over made, but he knew when his center of gravity was off. He knew when his tilt had tilted too far, and San knew when everything stopped moving.

San was aware of how dreamy he sounded, how delusional that he felt- but the feeling of love was intoxicating, and he didn’t care to drown in it every day. He didn’t care, not one bit at all. If there was one thing San was sure of it was of how much he fucking loved Jung Wooyoung. He was also sure of how much fucking Jung Wooyoung loved him.

San had grown a lot, he had once compared himself to the loss of gravity and a flightless bird.

Even as you grow, your parents can still clip the pinion of your wings, they can still bind your arms together and keep you as their bird in a cage. 

Your beautiful singing voice could chirp as loud as it wanted- but not if your parents had quelled you.

Then gravity applied to you.

But, the tiny bird San once was, is no longer more. He fixed his glass wings with the glue of the love around him, he took care of himself with the help of others. He didn’t find any shame in that.

San could now see himself flying high in the sky, along with his friends who were balloons that floated after the fair in the air of the blue sky.

His friends that reminded him of a cluster of balloons that stuck together through the static and rubber squeaks. They would drift into the blue sky, their bright colors stark against the pastel sky, highlighting their beauty. A wistful sort of feelings would be evoked as people would watch them glide and fly- everyone envied the youthful friend group.

The group you would look at and wish that you could just know how they fit so well, how they click- a sort of wonder.

Gravity may not let him float, but it couldn’t stop him from creating wings to fly alongside the others.

He would catch flight and his wings would snap like a rubber band and he would soar. 

He would soar higher and higher and higher until he decided that he wanted to touch the earth’s floor. He wasn’t going to let gravity make that decision, he was going to land with a perfect form, and his caged voice free.

San let his hand grace the high cheekbones of Wooyoung’s face and he counted the freckles.

Six.

San liked to compare Wooyoung to the civil twilight. Like the twilight they were sitting in now, like the amount of freckles that he could count on the planes and solar system of Wooyoung’s face. It was the time when the sun was perfectly 6 degrees below the horizon, and when San felt he could fall in love with Wooyoung, six times over. 

Six. Six. Six.

The civil twilight was his favorite part of the day because he would watch the sun dip gently beneath the cotton candy sky, and his fingers would dip into Wooyoung’s cotton mind. Fingers would slip beautifully together, Wooyoung’s eyes would twinkle with plethora's of the brightest stars and Venus. It was a bit like the thrill of your favorite concert, the build-up of slow open mouth kisses across the watery crimson flushed chests, and the slow-down of watching it slip into nautical twilight.

He would be a burning ball every day, a rip in time every day, if that is what it took.

San was quiet, mindful, and a bit of a wanderer who spaced out in daydreams of anything but clear resolution. Often, Wooyoung would bring him back down to earth with his graceful smile, his tethering laugh, and his clip of balloons sigh.

San wasn’t really sure when Wooyoung became a champagne supernova that had exactly 1.4 too much solar mass pressure on his trapped butterfly heart, but he thought he really wouldn’t mind the inward collapse on his glass heart.

Together, Wooyoung and San drifted across the sky, light shining through their transparent bodies like a celestial experience and burning horizon.

“Life does suck, and humans are fragile, like glass. But, I think you will be just fine San.”

“Why is that?”

“Because I am here.” Wooyoung said, a laugh booming from him. San couldn’t help but smile too, and he pulled his boyfriend closer. God, he was so in love. He didn’t know that life could ever be this good.

Fuck, San deserved this. He really, really, really did.

Wooyoung was right- humans are tiny, fragile, and often see-through when positioned in the right light with the right person. San and Wooyoung were fragile, teetering on the edge of youth and adulthood, their bodies still bright and beautiful with the sun behind them.

Wooyoung and San had many cracks in them, fissures that spread throughout their clear beings, but together they were strong and unbreakable. They both have been tugged around in life, tossed off high shelves without the guarantee of a safe landing, the loss of gravity prominent like the scars on their hollow skin.

But.

But, if one to were look closer on the shelf, they would see balloons high above their landing, and the faint glow of a rainbow that did guarantee the safe landing- as rainbows stood for promises. Together, Wooyoung and San would land beautifully, the tinkering of bells and piano keys celebrating their arrival of safety.

The celebration of the brevity of a glass doll.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg, it's over????????

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on twitter @wooyoungies and cry with me :)
> 
> don’t forget to leave kudos if you enjoyed hehe


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